


The Echo Jar

by jessie_cristo



Series: Psyche's Gifts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Incest, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Modern Setting Retelling of Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Mpreg, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Wincest Reverse Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-04-05 23:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessie_cristo/pseuds/jessie_cristo
Summary: With his year running out, Hellhounds have started sniffing around and Dean's hallucinations are starting to make him a liability. Bobby comes up with a plan but Dean isn't happy about it. Especially when the plan requires him and Sam to go their separate ways.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wincest Reverse Bang 2019  
> prompt #7: Winter In A Bottle  
> artist: supernutjapan
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> **supernutjapan** and I hit it off right from the start and working with her has been an absolute joy. She was open to suggestions and keen at catching the essence of my story with her art, in ways that I hadn't even dreamed of!  
> Please take a moment to check out the rest of her art on her page and let her know how amazing she is 'cause she more than deserves it!  
>  **  
>  **  
> [supernutjapan's [LJ](https://supernuthome.livejournal.com/451066.html?fbclid=IwAR3lXWG4gD85XJaGsAsoa6uASEvnzOCHdixwfWUkR8BxgsnIwPovlDSsHbo) | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19061908)]
> 
> \--------------------------------------------
> 
>  
> 
> Big thanks to my betas and friends in my Facebook Fanfic Club (cyncitymojo, jerzcaligirl, jld71, J2 Girlz, psykes & firesign10) for the work you did as betas, the advice freely given, the inspiration to keep going and to trust my own imagination and ideas.
> 
> I feel blessed to have all of you, along with supernutjapan, in my life and not just because of this fic, but also because you are all talented, caring and generous individuals who make my days brighter just by being you.
> 
> I know some of you are gonna say you didn't do anything, but really, even when you took the time to talk out plot points or looked up some facts for me or even just shot me an encouraging word or two... IT HELPED! Trust me, it did. So thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

The horizon was lit up in a wild array of colors as the sun dipped below the line of mountains that Sam had been staring at, unseeing, for the past half hour. His mind was too preoccupied with other concerns to take note of the beautiful sight before him.

But when the French doors at the other end of the long, stone patio opened and Dean stepped out, Sam couldn’t keep his eyes from locking onto the masculine beauty that was his brother, even if he wanted to. Which he never did. Sam doubted he’d ever tire of looking at Dean; his brother, his lover, his best friend, and husband in all ways but on paper.

When Dean had told him about the crossroads deal he’d made with a demon a little under a year ago to bring Sam back from the dead, Sam had stopped caring about hiding their true relationship from those who knew them or anyone in general. Dean had been shocked and reticent at first, but eventually started to feel the same way, and stopped pulling away from Sam’s hands or his hugs and kisses.

“Screw them! Got more important things to worry about than what some asshats think about us. Life’s too short! Right, Sammy?” Dean had joked, the shit-eating grin he’d shot Sam withering and dying faster than a snowflake in Hell when Sam turned to give him a despairing and broken look.

Instantly, Dean had felt like an asshat himself. “Sorry.” he’d muttered, sounding truly repentant about upsetting Sam.

But in the months to follow, as his time ran down, Dean would do it again and again. Making jokes and snide remarks about his impending death. Sam knew it was just his brother’s way of dealing with the fear, but each comment or poorly timed joke never failed to tear another piece out of Sam’s heart.

Between the hunts Dean kept insisting they did, Sam would force Dean to chase down every clue or hint about ways to break a demon deal. They never panned out and every person they met who knew anything on the subject all said the same thing. Once you’ve made a deal there is no breaking it or getting out of it, except by possibly making another deal; And no way was Dean allowing Sam to do that.

Now, his year was almost up. They had one more thing to try. A kind of ‘hail mary’ as Bobby called it.

The nightmares and hallucinations had started a week ago and Sam had called a halt to hunting. Especially after their last one where Dean’s fatigue caught up to him and nearly got him killed by a standard spook.

He’d then surprised Dean by using one of their fake Gold cards to rent a cabin at a ski resort so that they could relax while continuing to do research and making calls around to their contacts.

And so here they were. Day two at the resort, Dean was already going stir-crazy and Sam was doing his best to keep him calm and happy.

Sam smiled as he watched Dean make his way toward him. The six-foot-one man dressed in nothing but a tee, boxer briefs, and boots with the large quilt from their king-sized bed thrown over his shoulders.

Dean pouted as he neared Sam, seated on the wide Adirondack chair, then sat beside him with an exasperated huff.

“You’re up early. I know you didn’t get much sleep again.” Sam said, softly.

Dean mumbled incoherently then leaned against Sam, pushing his face into the side of Sam’s neck, breathing in Sam’s scent with a pleased hum. “You smell like waffles and snow.”

Sam laughed, affectionately, as he wrapped one long, strong arm around his brother’s quilt-wrapped form and pulled him closer.

Sam knew his brother had to be half-asleep still to openly snuggle up against him like he was doing at the moment; practically lying in Sam’s lap at this point. Dean Winchester wasn’t normally the cuddling type.

“Couldn’t sleep without my personal heating system.” Dean mumbled. His lush lips brushing softly against the skin of Sam’s neck, sending a frisson of pleasure shooting through his body.

“I don’t know why you picked Aspen to have our little vacation time anyway. Place is an icebox!”

“It’s quiet and it’s beautiful and you know it. C’mon man… look around us! Look at all that pristine snow, the mountains, the trees. It’s a great place to recuperate.”

Pulling back a little, Dean looked blearily around at their surroundings, then shrugged in reluctant agreement. The scene before them _was_ very nice. His clear, bottle-green gaze fell on the large, bare tree directly across from them, at the edge of the small yard in front of their cabin. Even with the branches bare, Dean had to admit it had a stark beauty to it.

He turned to grin up at Sam. “Gimme your knife.”

“What? Why?”

“Just gimme.” Dean replied, grinning as he dug one hand behind Sam and down into the right-side back pocket of his brother’s jeans looking for the small, sharp folding knife he knew Sam always kept there.

Sam gave a small ‘yip’ when Dean gave his ass a little squeeze before nabbing the knife and withdrawing his hand. Then, before Sam could question him, Dean was off of him, down the five steps of the patio, and heading across the yard with the ends of the colorful quilt dragging through the snow behind him.

By the time Sam collected his wits and followed him, Dean was at the base of the tree and carving into it with Sam’s knife. In no time, Sam could see that Dean was carving ‘DW’, his initials. A minute later, he turned and handed Sam back his knife. “Now you.” his older brother said with a smirk.

A couple of minutes later, an ‘SW’ was carved into the tree right next to Dean’s initials. Sam smiled softly, memories of the day they’d done the same in the Impala running through his mind. He was about to fold his knife up and put it away when Dean stopped him and held out his hand for the knife.

“One more thing.” his brother muttered, taking the knife and making a small cut in his left thumb. Sam watched, bemused as Dean rubbed the blood that had welled up into Sam’s initials, turning the raw, white scratches of the freshly scored wood a dark red as the blood soaked in. He then turned and gave Sam the knife, staring up into Sam’s green-blue and hazel eyes with a loving, soft expression that took Sam’s breath away.

Sam nicked his own thumb without having to be asked and rubbed the blood into Dean’s initials while fighting back the tears that burned at the back of his eyes.

He put his knife away then turned to look at his brother. “Did you just marry me, hunter-style?”

“Yes, I did… and if anyone has a problem with it they can take a flying leap for all I care. You’re it for me, Sam Winchester, and I’ll love you ‘til the day I die and beyond that!”

“You realize we’re having a chick-flick moment, right?” Sam said, through the soft tears he could no longer hold back.

“Dude, we just carved our initials into a tree with a very sharp blade then sealed them with blood! _SO_ not a chick thing, _at all_!” Dean huffed.

Sam threw his head back and laughed. “Five seconds married and you’re already at me like a naggy wife.”

Dean’s mouth snapped shut as he fixed Sam with his strongest death glare. “You did _not_ just call me a woman.”

Dean’s plush lips, rosy from the cold, tightened even as his eyes narrowed on his brother. “Just for that, no honeymoon sex for you!”

Turning haughtily in place, Dean marched off back up the steps and into the large, upscale cabin; slamming the surprisingly strong French door behind him.

Sam laughed softly and shook his head at his brother’s actions. He wasn’t worried. They’d learned a long time ago that neither could stay mad at the other for very long. Sam would have to tease and flirt his way back into Dean’s good graces, but that was something Sam had always enjoyed doing. Their sex life was hot, heavy, and more than satisfying, but angry, make-up sex between them always turned it up a notch and made it even hotter.

Sam looked back at what his mind was already calling _’their_ tree and smiled. Just a year ago, Dean would never have considered doing something as ‘romantic’ as having a hunter’s wedding.

Sam’s eyes traveled up to the top of the tree as he sighed. It was bittersweet that it took Dean’s impending death and one-way ticket to hell to finally make Dean open up about their relationship and take a step like committing to Sam in the way he just did. No matter how spur-of-the-moment it seemed, Sam knew his brother well enough to know that it wasn’t. Dean had been planning it and was just waiting for the most opportune time to act on it.

The patio door opened again and Sam could see Dean through the glass; wearing nothing but his tight black boxer briefs. He stuck his head out to frown confusedly at Sam.

“What’s going on? You know I was kidding about no sex, right? Get in here and fuck me already!”

Sam laughed, then turned to trudge back through the snow and toward the cabin. “My brother... ever the romantic.”

Ellen Harvelle parked her truck in the short driveway leading up to the modern A-frame cabin then turned to look at her daughter seated in the passenger seat.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I’m fine.” Jo answered quickly.

Ellen raised one brow.

“Mom, I’m fine! I’m happy for him. For them.”

“What’s this about then?” asked the woman in the back seat, British accent evident.

Ellen turned to shoot the woman an annoyed glare. “None of your business. You’re here for one thing and one thing only.”

“Let’s just get this done.” Jo muttered before opening her door and hopping out of the large dark green truck and slamming the door shut behind her.

Ellen, and their passenger Bela, followed suit on the other side of the truck. All three women moved toward the back of the truck to collect their bags, Jo smirking at Bela’s Gucci luggage and makeup bag.

“I still don’t see why I couldn’t just drive my own car up here.” Bela griped as she struggled to lift her large suitcase out of the truck bed.

“I told you. Your little sports car would have trouble navigating the snow up here. Also, the boys told us about your tendency to cut out when things get rough.”

“You owe Bobby this favor, and we’re gonna make sure you hold up your end of the bargain by making it harder for you to just take off.” Jo added.

Bela rolled her eyes as she pulled up on the extendable handle of her suitcase then began pulling it up the drive on its little wheels. “Whatever you say, darling. Be a peach and bring that last bag with you, won’t you? Thanks.”

Gritting her teeth until they began to ache, Jo snatched up Bela’s makeup bag, repositioned the straps of her own large duffle bag on her shoulder, then nearly fell when she took her first step.

She glanced over at her mother as the older woman walked by with an amused smirk on her face.

“Don’t tell her, but I kinda like her. She’s got spunk.”

“Well I’ve got a right hook, and if she gets any more spunky with me I’m gonna show it to her.”

When Jo and Ellen caught up to Bela and they were halfway up the drive, the doors to the cabin opened and three men came out to meet them. Jo spotted Dean right away. Her gaze locking in on the green-eyed man, drinking him in. His masculine beauty never failed to take her breath away and leave her feeling a little weak-kneed.

She thought that things would be different now that the brothers had come out of the closet and declared to all who knew them that they were more than just brothers. When her mother had broken the news to her, she’d spent almost an hour crying in her mother’s arms; the older woman being the only person who knew the extent of just how much Jo felt for Dean Winchester.

She had denied it for over a week but it had been something her mother had said that finally made her see it as the truth and to accept it.

“I know it hurts honey. But if you’d stop and think about it and be truly honest with yourself, you’ll see that on some level you knew it all along. From the day we met them, you had to have sensed what I did. There’s always been something special about those boys and you know it.”

Jo had refused to admit that and couldn’t accept her mother’s words. Eventually, she came to realize her mother was right. And yet, even as she watched Dean walking toward them, her mind tried to reject it all over again. That is, until she saw Sam watching her with a sad, sympathetic look on his face.

She quickly pasted a bright smile on her face as he headed her way. “Hey Sam. It’s good to see you.” And it _was_ good to see him, Jo admitted to herself. 

Even if Dean took up most of her heart, Sam had a small part of it too. If it was anyone else who’d stolen Dean’s heart, Jo didn’t think she’d ever accept it. But this was Sam. A man she considered to be a good and loyal friend. If anyone deserved Dean, it was definitely Sam and vice versa.

 

_A couple months earlier…_

 

Bobby Singer; veteran hunter, lore expert and surrogate father to the Winchester brothers - these were names he’d been proud to be called. 

_Narrow-minded, bigoted jackass?_ Not so much. 

But that was exactly what Rufus Turner, his mentor, old hunting buddy and all-around loyal and stalwart friend was calling him.

“Ex _cuse_ me?!” Bobby growled.

“You heard me.”

“They are _brothers_ , Rufus! Not half-brothers, not step-brothers… but brothers! Of the same _blood_!”

“And so what?!” Rufus scoffed, as he made himself at home in Bobby’s kitchen. “It’s not like either is in danger of getting pregnant.”

Bobby gaped at his old friend, rendered silent for the first time in… he didn’t know how long!

Rufus finished dumping three heaping spoonfuls of powdered creamer in his coffee then turned back to Bobby as he stirred it in.

“Look… we’re hunters. So are Sam and Dean. We live our lives always expecting one badass monster or another to take us down. We don’t get much in the happy department and every smart hunter knows we have to take what we can get and cherish the hell out of it while we can.” Rufus reached over to push Bobby’s mouth closed, then grinned when the grizzled man swatted his hand away but kept quiet, raising both brows as he waited for Rufus to continue.

“Sam and Dean were raised in the life. They’ve got so many targets on them it’s not even funny. Do you honestly think that either of them is gonna find some normie, male or female, that they could settle down and live happily ever after with?”

“But…” Bobby tried to cut in.

“No! Let me finish!” Rufus barked, setting his cup on the battered old kitchen table and taking a seat. He waved for Bobby to take a seat as well, then waited until he did.

“Listen, old friend. You and I have been around the block many times. We’ve seen some truly cockamamie things in our lives. A lot of evil and a lot of death and sadness. You should be happy that your boys found love in all this mess. Flesh and blood are of this world. It’s temporary as we age and when we die - however we die - it’s gone to dust or up in smoke. But Sam and Dean? Those two are soulmates. I know you’ve sensed it too. What they have goes way beyond earthly boundaries and societal norms, man. It’s not evil, it’s not something despicable. What they have is pure. Even an old, used-up war dog like me can see it.”

By the time Rufus finished speaking, Bobby’s face was pinched with anguish and indecision.

“I need time to think this over.” he finally said. “I hear what you’re saying, but it’s gonna take me a while to wrap my brain around it.”

“Yeah, you think about it. While you do, put this in that shriveled thing you call a brain. Sam and Dean are obviously serious about their relationship and not caring who knows. _Except_ when it comes to you. They’ve always valued your high opinion of them. Do you want Dean to spend what time he has left thinking he’s a disappointment to you or for Sam to no longer feel comfortable coming to you when he needs help after Dean is gone?”

“No, no! I love those boys! They could never disappoint me or make me turn away from them.”

“But Bobby, that’s exactly what you’re doing. By declaring their love as wrong and not accepting them, you’re literally turning your back on them.”

Bobby slumped back in his chair, stricken with remorse.

Later that night, hours after Rufus had left, Bobby called Sam and Dean to congratulate them and to give them his blessing and undivided support. His heart clenched at the pure relief and joy in their voices as they thanked him.

When they finished the call fifteen minutes later, Bobby’s relieved smile dropped when he realized he’d now have to buy Rufus a top shelf bottle of scotch to thank him for his advice.

“Balls!” he groaned aloud.


	2. Chapter 2

  


_Now…_

Wearing a rumpled black tee shirt, gray sweatpants, and with his hair sticking out in all directions, Sam followed the sound of low voices and trudged wearily into the cabin’s small dining room, then paused to take in the scene before him.

Bobby, Ellen, and Bela were seated at the big square, black, glass and chrome table with two strangers Sam pegged as hunters right off.

“Good morning sunshine.” Bobby said, as he took in Sam’s untidy appearance, bloodshot eyes, and drawn expression. “Get any sleep?”

“Not really?” Sam asked, eyes locked on the strangers.

“Dean still having nightmares?”

“Yeah. Kept us both up most of the night. I think he was only getting about an hour’s sleep at a time. They’re getting worse.”

“This is Tamara and Isaac. They’re the hunter couple I told you and Dean about yesterday. They brought the last of the ingredients we need and they’ve offered to stay and help.”

The man, Isaac, huffed slightly as his wife, Tamara, gave him a slight nudge with her elbow.

A line formed between Sam’s brows as he frowned slightly at Isaac. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

Despite his wife’s quelling look, Isaac straightened in his chair and fixed Sam with a challenging glare. “Yes, I’m all for helping out Bobby, my wife and I owe him, but we didn’t know it was to help some idiot hunter that makes deals with demons.”

“Isaac!” Tamara hissed, even as Bobby and Ellen made sounds of protest.

Sam’s fatigue vanished as red-hot anger filled him. “My brother isn’t an idiot and he only did it to save me!”

“Yeah, we heard all about why he did it. Still a foolish and moronic thing to do! What’s dead should _stay_ dead!”

“If you’re gonna talk crap about me, at least have the balls to say it to my face and leave my brother out of it.” came a low growl from behind Sam.

Sam whirled around to see Dean, clad in another wrinkled black tee and a beat up, faded pair of jeans. Face lined with fatigue, dark bags under his eyes and complexion grayed. Yet, the cold, dark anger in the eyes he fixed on Isaac still evinced enough danger to make Isaac reach one hand into his jacket; obviously reaching for some kind of weapon, his wife stopping him from pulling out whatever it was by placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard.

“Dean! You should be resting!” Sam growled at his brother, anger bleeding into worry for his brother-slash-husband. Instantly, he hurried to Dean’s side, sliding one arm around his waist, the other coming up to rest a large hand against Dean’s solid chest.

Dean reached up to grip the hand on his chest and squeezed it gently. “I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep anymore without you there, and I’m not looking forward to another nightmare right now.”

Releasing Sam, Dean stepped closer to the table and fixed Isaac with a heated glare. “I heard what Bobby said, but I don’t need the help of someone who thinks my _husband_ should’ve been left for dead.”

At Tamara and Isaac’s surprised expressions, Dean’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Yeah, you heard me right. Sam and I are married, hunter style. If you’ve got a problem with two guys or even two brothers marrying, then thanks for what help you gave Bobby, but don’t let the door hit ya on the way out.”

Isaac moved as if to leave and Tamara exploded. “If you leave like this after all Bobby has done for us, we are through!”

Isaac froze, then turned to stare at his wife with shock and hurt written plainly on his face.

“I’ve had quite enough, Isaac.”

“Enough?”

“We turned down helping that hunter in Des Moines because you didn’t approve of his addiction to pain meds.”

“His addiction made him unreliable!”

“He was a perfectly fine hunter that was using the meds to help him with chronic back pain! Then there were those sisters who needed our help with a vampire coven in Maine.”

“They were witches and you know we don’t mess around with witches or warlocks!”

“They were _Wiccans_ Isaac! They only worked beneficial magic for the townspeople and you offended them so badly they ran us out of town then went after the coven on their own. One of them died because we weren’t there to help them!”

“I don’t care what they called themselves, they were still witches!”

“They were people! People who needed our help!”

As the couple were fighting, Jo stepped out of the kitchen and paused at the entrance to the dining room, a large platter of food in both hands - one piled high with fluffy scrambled eggs, the other with what looked and smelled like bacon and sausage links to Sam.

“Um, breakfast.” she said, cautiously.

Ignoring her, Tamara stood tall and fixed her husband with a steely glare. “I, of all people, understand why you distrust anything and anyone that has anything to do with the supernatural, Isaac, and I love you. But there are exceptions to everything. Nothing is black and white. I let your prejudices and bigotry go for all these years because I understood where they were coming from, but no more! Not in this instance. If you walk out that door, you walk out alone this time.”

Looking shocked, then resigned, Isaac’s eyes dropped to the floor. He then made his way back to his seat and sat down without another word. Biting her bottom lip, Tamara regained her own seat, then looked over at Sam and Dean.

“Congratulations on your marriage.” she said.

After a quick and quiet breakfast, the table was cleared as Bobby and Ellen brought the books and scrolls Bobby had brought with him. Tamara and Isaac laid out the ingredients for the spell along with all the paraphernalia they’d need to brew it.

Sam tried to get Dean to get more rest, but Dean wasn’t having it.

“I’ve yet to hear Bobby’s full plan yet, Sam. If you think I’m gonna go take a nap while you all make decisions for me like I’m 5-years-old, you better think again.”

“I don’t think you’re a child, Dean. I’m just worried about you!” Sam whispered fiercely, voice tinged with desperation.

“Hey, hey. Come here.” Dean murmured, reaching up to grasp the back of Sam’s neck and pulling him down until their foreheads met. “I’m fine. I’ve gone longer without sleep before. You know that.”

“I know. I just… your time is almost up, and I can’t… I can’t lose you, Dean.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sam is gaping at Bobby as ‘losing Dean’ is exactly what is being asked of him. “Wait, what?!”

“Hell no!” Dean shouted at the same time. “This is _MY_ fight, and _hell_ if I’ll let anyone bench me!”

“Dammit Dean!” Bobby cursed even as Ellen tried to soothe Dean.

Sam just stood speechless, staring at Bobby.

“Listen to me for one goddamned second, Dean, and get it through that stubborn head of yours. Lilith and her hellhounds will be coming for you. As your time gets closer, you’ll start hallucinating, Hell, we all know the nightmares have been getting worse! We need more time to find a way to take her out while keeping you out of her clutches. No demon, hellhound, or anybody else will be able to find you. She’ll be able to sense that you’re still alive, but she won’t be able to pinpoint your location.”

“So you wanna stuff me in a bottle while you and Aladdin…” Dean paused to wave a hand in Sam’s directions. “...risk your lives trying to take down Lilith on your own?! What does that make you? The monkey or the parrot?! No, Bobby. Just NO!”

“No, wait Dean.” Sam finally snapped out of his daze and stepped closer to the others at the table. He quickly scanned the myriad of items on the table, then snatched up a scroll and quickly scanned the images and the Latin words that went with them.

“Echo Jar? Is that what it’s called? Explain in detail what it is, and how this crazy plan of yours is gonna work.”

“Sam…” Dean started, but Sam cut him off.

“No, Dean! Stow it! We have to at least hear it out. Everything. Then we’ll make a decision… together. Okay?”

Ellen, who was still standing next to Dean, laid a hand on his arm to get him to look down at her. “Dean, we’re all here to help you and your brother. Just listen to what Bobby has planned with an open mind.”

Dean thinned his lips into a stubborn line, then finally sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

Giving Dean another glare, Bobby blinked, then turned back to the table. He picked up another yellowed parchment, this one crammed with a lot of nearly indecipherable writing on it.

“The Echo Jar is one of many gifts given to mankind by the Greek Goddess Psyche. I won’t go too much into the long story about her, but lore says she was once a human of exceptional beauty that incurred the wrath of Aphrodite when her worshippers turned to the young, human girl and began worshipping her in praise and gifts. Aphrodite tasked her son Eros, or Cupid as he’s more commonly known, to shoot Psyche with one of his arrows to cause her to fall in love with something hideous, namely a donkey. But upon seeing her himself, Eros was so enraptured with her beauty he ended up scratching himself with his own arrow and fell madly in love with Psyche. There’s more to the story, but the two ended up marrying and despite being made into a Goddess herself, Psyche never forgot her humble human origins and has granted boons or gifts on humans through the years. You with me so far?”

Everyone nodded and Dean motioned with the parchment in his hand for Bobby to continue.

“There were items that were gifted to certain worthy humans and some that were seeded around the world for humans to find. Each item was made to grant their user something magical, something beneficial. An Echo Jar is one of the items. There are only two known to still exist in the entire world. One is locked deep within the vaults of the Vatican. The other, Miss Talbot managed to track down and acquire from an Italian Count who didn’t know what he had and was using it as the centerpiece for his dining table.”

Bela scoffed. “The Count was a bloody idiot, all I had to do was remark on how pretty it was and he was offering it and the flowers he had in it, to me. It was more of a challenge getting it through customs, for fuck’s sake!”

Despite her dislike for the British woman, Jo couldn’t help but snort, then chuckle at her words.

Bela left her seat and walked over to a small black case sitting on a side table, opened it and pulled out an object wrapped in layers of black felt. She brought it back over to the dining table, Tamara clearing a space for it, then unwrapped it and stepped back so they could all get a good look.

“That’s it?” Sam asked, while giving the large, simple-looking glass jar a dubious look.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Bela crooned.

“It’s a pickle jar.” Dean muttered, then turned to fix Bobby with a bland look. “You wanna put me in a pickle jar?”

Bobby rolled his eyes even as Bela huffed with indignation.

“It’s _not_ a pickle jar, you bloody ignoramus! It’s a beautiful rendition of the last era in which it had been used. It shapes itself into an innocuous form typical of the time it’s activated in. It’s a security measure so as to not draw attention to itself, so that the occupant remains undisturbed for as long as possible. It’s shape is also determined by the users themselves. From what Singer has been able to dig up, the last time this jar was used was in the early 1900s by some dumpy little housewife looking to escape her boring existence and an abusive husband. Which is most likely why it looks like a regular mason jar that yes, was often used for pickling.”

“The point is, Dean,” Ellen cut in, “with you safe and sound in this pickle jar, Lilith won’t be able to collect on the deal. No demon or hellhound can track you to it and even if they figured out you were in it, once the power is invoked and you are inside of it, it becomes nearly indestructible. They can’t force you out, only you will be able to bring yourself out of the jar.”

“This won’t be permanent, Dean. It’s only a way to give you more time. To give us _all_ more time to find a way to get you out of this deal.”

“So what will I be doing when I’m in there? Floating around, cooling my heels until I turn into a meaty raisin?!”

Jo snorted and chuckled.

The others shot her mixed looks of exasperation and disapproval, with the exception of Bela, who chuckled as well. Jo quickly sobered, then apologized when she realized the only other to find what Dean had said to be amusing was the cold, opportunistic Englishwoman whom Jo could barely stand, let alone agree with on anything.

Bobby shook his head, then turned his attention back on Dean. “From what I’ve read in the journals Tamara and Isaac dug up, the very journals that led Bela to the jar and the scroll, the spell turns the jar into a sort of dream world for the occupant. A utopia created from the occupant’s mind.”

“I shudder to think what sort of world would come out of _his_ mind.” Bela said, derisively. Bobby and Dean shot her exasperated looks.

Bobby huffed in annoyance then growled. “Bela, why are you even still here? You delivered the jar and the scrolls and I gave you your payment.” He gestured at a flat, wooden box Sam only then noticed was sitting next to the case Bela had pulled the jar out of. “Take it and leave. We don’t need you here.”

“I was curious as to what you were planning, but now I’m completely bored. I’d love to leave but Large Marge and her kewpie doll of a daughter wouldn’t let me bring my own car. How exactly am I supposed to get out of here?”

“Listen, you conniving little…” Ellen started, eyes blazing with ire.

“Relax, relax! _I’ll_ take her back to her car!” Jo cut in, hoping to avoid a shouting match between her mother and the annoying Brit. She jumped up from her chair and snatched the keys to her mother’s truck off the dining table.

“Yes! It’s about time! Let me just grab my things.” Bela exclaimed, as she rushed to put the box in her case then took it with her as she apparently rushed out to collect the rest of her stuff.

“Would you like some company?” Tamara asked, and Jo nodded gratefully. Not looking forward to the two-hour long drive back to town with only Bela as company.

“I’ll just grab my bag too. She may be a fellow countryman but I’ll happily gag her for you if she gets too annoying.” Tamara joked, making Jo smile. Tamara reassured Isaac that she’d be back, then she and Jo left the dining room with Ellen calling out to Jo to be careful.

As Bobby and Ellen went back to explaining and arguing with Dean, Sam heard the other three women leaving out the front door. Without a word, Sam turned and followed after them and made sure the door was locked and that the _goofer_ dust line in front of the door wasn’t broken.

He stood there staring down at the dust thinking about what it would be like to be separated from Dean for however long it took to find a way to kill Lilith and free Dean from his deal for good.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there before he felt strong hands gripping his hips from behind and then warm, strong arms wrapping around him as Dean pressed back to mold himself to Sam. His head dropped back to rest on Sam’s wide chest.

In the dining room, Bobby slapped the parchment he was holding back onto the table, then stomped towards the living room to call Dean back into the room. He froze in the doorway and sighed softly as he took in Sam and Dean standing together, lost in their own world.

He jumped slightly when Ellen spoke at his side, not realizing she’d joined him and was also gazing wonderingly at the boys.

“I thought it would take me longer to adjust to seeing them like this.” she said. “But, surprisingly, it doesn’t seem odd to me in any way. It’s almost like them being like this with each other feels right. Like they really were meant to be and all it took was for them to realize and act on it.”

Bobby nodded in agreement.

“What are we gonna do, Bobby? We can’t do this if Dean won’t cooperate.”

“Sam will take care of it. I know he knows that this is our best shot at saving Dean. He’s the only one out of all of us that can talk Dean into it.” Bobby said quietly, confidently.  



	3. Chapter 3

  
“I’m not doing it Sam. Nothing you say is gonna convince me to run off and hide while you and the others are here risking your lives for me!” Dean raved as he paced back and forth in their room.  
The master suite had a wall of windows along one side with a shallow balcony that fit under the A-frame eaves of the luxury cabin. Inside the suite, there was a two-person hot tub near the glass wall, a large king-sized bed in the middle of the room with nightstands built into the wall behind it. There was a large, flat screen TV on the wall, with a mounted shelf below it that held a DVD player and a compact stereo.

Down a short hall on the other side of the room was a large, airy walk-in closet to the left. The hall opened up to a bathroom nearly the same size as the bedroom, with a large stone and glass shower in one corner, double-sink vanity and a deep, old-fashioned copper tub along the back wall. The master suite was so huge it took up the entire second floor of the cabin.

Sam sat on the end of the immense bed that was decked out in shades of dark blue, dove gray, and creamy white bedding and pillows. He rested his elbows on his knees and peered up at his husband through his bangs with a resigned expression.

“Then you might as well just shoot me now.”

“What?!”

“If we get into a fight with Lilith, along with her minions and hellhounds, I won’t be able to concentrate ‘cos I’ll be too worried about you.” Sam said, matter-of-factly.

“C’mon Sam. Stop being so melodramatic.”

“You pulled a gun on Bobby the day he got here, Dean. Remember? When he went to use the guest bathroom and surprised you in the hall?”

“That was a misunderstanding! I’m telling you I can handle it and I feel _fine_ , goddammit!”

“Yes, but the hallucinations get worse as your time runs down, we both know that. We’ve seen it with others who’ve made deals. What if you mistake one of us for a demon or ghoul and hurt one of us while we’re fighting? What if you hurt me? How do you think you’ll feel then?!” 

“We just have to find something else.”

“We don’t have time, Dean! Your time is up tomorrow! They’ll be coming for you!” Ending on a broken sob. Sam hastily wiped at his face as unwilling tears began to fall.

Dean froze as he turned around to pace back toward Sam. “Sam, don’t.” he croaked out as he took in Sam’s face, twisted with grief.

Before he knew it, he was on the bed with Sam, pulling the younger man into his arms and holding him tightly.

For most of his teen and early adult life, Dean had fought back his true feelings for Sam and that had led to him cloaking his feelings in humor or a stone facade in front of everyone, including Sam. But when he’d held his brother’s dead, rapidly cooling body in his arms in that ghost town on that fateful day, the wall he’d built had broken inside of him.

Since making the deal and getting his Sam back, Dean had found it impossible to put the wall back up. When it led to them finally getting together and to their subsequent coming out, Dean had never felt the urge to go back to how he was before.

Now, as he comforted his brother, his lover, his husband; Dean didn’t hold back. Whispering words of love and reassurance into Sam’s ears, Dean cradled Sam in his arms as Sam finally released his worry and fear in hard, ragged sobs that he’d been holding in for way too long.

Sam had always worn his feelings on his sleeve, but this near-violent release wasn’t normal, and as it continued, Dean began to feel frantic.

“Hey, hey, hey! Sammy c’mon. Breathe, baby, please.”

Dean wasn’t one for pet names and to hear it now just seemed to wreck Sam even more. He pushed himself forcefully into Dean, long muscled arms wrapping around Dean in a nearly painful hug.

“I c-can’t do this without you.” Sam whispered into the side of Dean’s head, lips buried in the short, soft strands of dark-blond hair. “And I can’t do this _with_ you, either. This is our only chance, Dean. I _need_ to save you. Please let me save you for a change.”

Dean’s eyes closed in resignation then reopened when he heard the telltale clearing of a throat coming from the doorway. Bobby stood just inside the door, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other holding a large white mug with steam rising out of it.

“You’ll do it, right Dean?” the older man said. For Bobby, it wasn’t really a question. He knew his boys enough to know when Dean was giving in to Sam. He’d seen it happen over and over as he watched the boys grow up. Dean never could say no to Sam.

When Dean nodded and Sam pulled away from Dean so that he could regain his composure and wipe the tears from his face, Bobby made his way over to them and held the steaming mug out to Dean.

“You have to drink this potion before you say the incantation while holding the jar.”

“What’s in it?”

“African dream root, sage and other ingredients I think you’d rather not know about.”

“Do I have to go in now, right this second?” Dean grumbled.

“No, but drinking the potion won’t hurt you. I just want it in your system now as a safeguard in case you need to make a quick bunk if those sons-a-bitches try to pull a fast one and come for you too early.”

“Always thinking ahead, Bobby.” Sam murmured with amusement and affection in his tone.

“Hey, it’s kept me alive all these years.” Bobby said, then took the cup back as soon as Dean drained it.

Dean smacked his lips and looked at Bobby with a surprised smile. “That actually tastes good!”

Huffing a laugh, Bobby pulled his other hand out of his pocket and held out a piece of lined paper to Dean. “This is the incantation you need to say when you’re ready to go in the bottle.”

As Dean read it to himself, Sam leaned over to see and translated it to English as he read each line aloud.

 

“Psyche exaudi orationem meam  
Defensus de tenebris  
Liberate me de contradictionibus  
Dona mihi sanctuarium  
Dona mihi animam”

**[Psyche hear my plea  
** Shield me from darkness  
Free me from strife  
Grant me Sanctuary  
Grant me life] 

 

“Memorize it.” Bobby told him as he turned and made his way back toward the door. He paused to look back as the boys began reading the Latin again, Dean struggling with some of the words and Sam helping him to get it right.

Bobby smiled as he blinked back tears that stung at the back of his eyes. As brothers, their devotion to each other had been endearing. As husbands, or soulmates as Rufus had called them and Bobby was starting to believe, they were downright inspirational.

“Ellen and Isaac are cooking an early supper. Should be ready in about an hour or so.” Bobby told his boys, and his heart pulsed with love as Sam and Dean looked up and each gave him a smile in acknowledgement before returning their attention to the incantation.

 

 

Ten minutes after Bobby left and closed the door behind him, Dean threw the scrap of paper to the floor and flopped back on the bed.

“Enough of that.” he declared as he closed his eyes and began massaging the bridge of his nose with the fingers of one hand.

Sam frowned at him, slightly. “Dean, you have to get it right. You’re still pronouncing some of the words wrong!” Sam protested, moving to pick the paper up off the floor.

Before he could reach it, Dean grabbed him by the waist and yanked him back and on top of him. Maneuvering his tall, lanky brother until he was partially draped across Dean with one leg pressed enticingly between Dean’s sweetly bowed legs.

“Then again, if you say you got it, you got it.” Sam murmured, voice rough with a sudden need.

When it came to sex, Sam and Dean usually ran hot and wild. The both of them still so eager to touch and taste each other after nearly half of their lives of holding back and guarding their true feelings; Sam having revealed his own repressed feelings for Dean back when they’d finally opened up to each other and made love for the first time.

There had been times when they’d rushed, times when they’d been aggressive, times when they drank too much and times when they’d argued then made up with a bout or two of angry sex.

Sometimes Dean would top, sometimes Sam. They never discussed it ahead of time and both loved just being with the other, so they didn’t really care who topped or bottomed. Any sex between them, even if all they did was give each other handjobs, was always mind-blowingly hot and satisfying.

But here, now, they both moved slowly. Once again sensing what the other wanted without either of them having to say a word.

Sam undressed Dean with careful, gentle movements. Taking his time to caress or kiss each part he unveiled. Fingers trailing butterfly touches along Dean’s collarbones, shoulders, then down his arms. Mercurial hazel eyes following the course of his right hand as if trying to memorize every inch by sight and feel.

It wasn’t long before they were both naked and stretched out on the bed. Dean took his time exploring Sam with his hands and mouth as well. Their soft moans and sighs blending together as the heat between them slowly intensified.

After what felt like both a few short minutes and a lifetime of waiting, Sam reached for the lube sitting on the bedside table even as Dean rolled onto his stomach then pushed up onto his hands and knees. Sam groaned his name as Dean arched his back and pushed his ass back in a blatant invitation.

Sam was on him in a flash, pressing his long, lean body along Dean’s side even as one large, strong hand smoothed its way down his lower back and between the firm, full globes of Dean’s ass; slim, callused fingers finding and caressing his twitching, pink hole.

“Fuck, yes.” Dean moaned, then demanded, “More.”

Chuckling softly, Sam complied and in another blur of intense kisses and caresses he worked Dean open until he had three fingers easily sliding in and out of his brother. When Sam finally hooked his fingers and dragged one finger deliberately over Dean’s prostate, he grinned again when the older man’s entire body arched in a taut bow even as Dean gritted out expletives and demands for Sam to ‘fuck him already!’.

Dean’s world spun as Sam suddenly reared up to flip him onto his back and pulled both of his slightly bowed legs up onto his shoulders. Then in the next breath Sam was guiding his large, heavy erection toward Dean’s opening - rubbing the dark red, leaking bulbous tip against the dark pink and swollen pucker of Dean’s ass until it softened and opened and the head was able to slip in.

Sam then pushed in with one long, slow, firm push until he was buried to the hilt in his husband.

Sam could feel his eyes rolling up, eyelids fluttering as he groaned loudly at the tight, perfect velvet clutch of Dean’s ass. No matter how many times they’ve had sex, and they’ve had plenty, pushing into Dean always felt like coming home.

Dean’s head had dropped back onto the bed as the feel of Sam filling him up washed over him and left him breathless and seeing stars. The only other feeling in the world that could compare to it was when he was topping and slipping his own cock into Sam.

Raising his head from the bed, Dean looked up at Sam as his hands smoothed their way up Sam’s trembling arms until he was pulling on Sam’s shoulders to bring him down for another scorching kiss.

Dean’s legs had slid off Sam’s shoulders as the bigger man had leaned down, and were now spread so wide hooked over Sam’s elbows. The different angle also allowed his huge cock to shift and press directly against Dean’s sweet spot.

Sam gave a swirl of his hips, pulling a deep groan from Dean. “Mine.” he whispered against Dean’s plush, swollen lips.

Dean nodded frantically even as he began to buck his hips up into Sam, taking him even deeper inside of him. That seemed to set Sam off, and what little control he’d been employing cracked and he was pulling back, then slamming back in, Dean’s grunt devolving into a strangled groan.

Everything around them and all thoughts and worries faded away as desire, lust, hunger, and need took them over.

Those that say familiarity can make the sex go stale obviously never had the kind of sex that Sam and Dean did. It was because of their familiarity that made sex between them nearly always hot enough to be nuclear. Dean knew how Sam loved when he’d press his hand to the small of Sam’s back. Sam knew that the soft, freckled skin behind Dean’s ears was a huge erogenous zone for the older man. Both men had highly sensitive nipples and both loved when the other would squeeze their ass.

As Sam pushed back until he was propped up on his hands and began a maddening rhythm with his hips, Dean hunched his back into the bed so that he could get his mouth on one of Sam’s nipples. Whenever Sam’s heavy, rigid length would delve into him just right, Dean would bite down; not hard enough to break the skin but enough to make Sam’s hips falter and rend guttural moans from deep inside his chest.

When Dean turned his attention to the other nipple, Sam seemed to snap. Releasing Dean’s tremblingly weak legs to flop uselessly to either side of them, Sam dropped his full weight onto his brother and began pounding into Dean.

Both men were now sweating profusely and the sound of their wet flesh slapping together filled the room, along with their now near constant shouts and moans.

Dean wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist, arms around his neck, and held on tight even as his hips moved in sync with Sam’s. When the telltale tingle and consuming heat began to run through his body he knew he was close.

Sensing it, Sam cocked his hips at a certain angle then began a series of fast, jabbing thrusts that repeatedly nailed Dean’s prostate. Dean’s brain exploded in a flood of white hot flames that seemed to flood his entire body and he unknowingly dug his short, blunt nails into Sam’s back even as his strong bowed legs tightened enough to nearly strangle Sam at the waist, preventing the bigger man from pulling away. He could feel his cum spurting between them, coating his and Sam’s lower abs.

Snarling with mindless lust, Sam broke Dean’s hold on his neck then reared back onto his knees until he could also break Dean’s leghold. He then held Dean’s legs straight up in the air as he fucked viciously into Dean’s stretched and abused hole with a series of pounding thrusts that had Sam falling over the edge and flooding Dean’s channel with his seed in mere seconds.

Sam threw his head back, long-ish sable brown hair flaring out as his face twisted and he roared out Dean’s name.

Dean’s legs dropped to the bed as Sam settled heavily onto his haunches, his cock slipping wetly out of Dean as the older man’s spent body slid off his lap.

Sam knelt there with his head still hanging back, mouth gaping as he gasped wildly, trying to catch his breath. His whole body felt weak and way too heavy to move.

On the mussed bed before him, Dean lay gasping just as hard, legs spread obscenely, but uncaring as his mind slowly began to come back online.

“Holy fuck!” he rasped out. “I think you broke me this time, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled weakly, but still didn’t move.

Gathering up what energy he had left, Dean sat up with a low groan, grimacing slightly at the feel of Sam’s seed trickling slowly out of him, and wrapped his arms around Sam to guide him down and to the side of him while moving his trembling leg out of the way.

Sam hummed happily as he snuggled into Dean’s side, uncaring about their sticky, cum-smeared state. “Mmm, that was good. That _has_ to go in above Rhonda Hurley in your ‘Best Sex Bank’.”

Frowning amusedly down at his brother’s sex-drunk expression, Dean smiled adoringly. “Baby, all of our times together have taken up at least the top twenty spots, and this one is definitely in the top five.”

“Don’t call me ‘baby’, ‘m not a chick.” Sam mumbled as his eyes began to droop.

Grinning happily, Dean pulled Sam into his arms and sighed when the bigger man cuddled snugly up against him and laid his head on Dean’s chest.

“You’re my baby brother, aren’t you? That makes you my baby.” Dean murmured as he let his own eyes close, thinking a short nap before dinner would be good for both of them.

Outside the mountain-cabin-inspired luxury lodge, in the snow just along the treeline at the back of the property, the ground was littered with paw prints. The prints obviously those of a large creature. But even if an experienced hunter were to see the prints, they wouldn’t know what to make of them. For they were made by creatures not of this world.


	4. Chapter 4

Twenty minutes later, after another makeout session in the shower with Sam going to his knees and blowing Dean until the older man’s knees nearly gave out, the brothers made their way back downstairs; Dean grumbling about being famished as Sam just smiled affectionately.

When they entered the kitchen where Ellen, Isaac and Bobby were finishing up their own meals, Bobby and Isaac stared steadfastly at their plates while muttering out greetings. Sam paused to take in their odd behavior before turning to look at Ellen who had risen from her seat to retrieve two platters that she’d been keeping warm in the oven. When she smiled and winked at them, Sam groaned and hid his face against Dean’s shoulder; the older man frowning in confusion.

“You know.” Isaac started, looking up at Sam and Dean, a strip of bacon held between the fingers of one hand. “For what it probably cost to build this place, you’d think they’d have soundproofed the bedrooms better.”

Bobby covered both ears with his hands and shut his eyes tightly, as Ellen giggled -giggled!- and set the platters on the sturdy wooden table.

“I mean, I thought my Tam and I were loud, but you two beat us hands down.”

Dean frowned at Isaac for a second more before his face cleared in understanding and he grinned, cheekily. “What can I say? Sammy here’s a real tiger in the sheets.”

Sam pulled back with a shocked gasp, then lightly punched Dean in the stomach - not hard enough to really hurt but enough to force a huff of laughter out of his older brother.

Bobby groaned then hurried out of the room with a hasty excuse about needing to put away the stuff in the dining room.

Sam watched Bobby leave then turned to look back at Dean with a troubled frown. “I thought Bobby was okay with this. I thought he accepted our relationship.”

“Don’t be stupid, Sam. Of course he accepts you two. He loves you two like his own sons.” Ellen cut in. “But no parent likes knowing their kids are having sex, let alone hearing it for themselves. Now both of you sit down and eat before it gets cold. Since it looks like Bobby’s done, I guess you can take his plate, Dean.”

Then Bobby was shuffling back into the room, face a dark cloud as he grumbled. “Damn straight, I don’t need to be hearing that and get away from my food, boy!”

Bobby snatched up his plate then turned and headed back out to the dining room, calling out as he went. “When you’re all done stuffing your faces, get in here. I need to show y’all something.”

After the four gave each other amused looks, they all turned their attention back to the good food on the table and settled in to eat. Sam was a bit surprised, yet pleased when Isaac and Dean fell into an easy conversation about weapons and cars. Maybe the guy wasn’t so bad after all.

After the meal, they all helped to clean up and store the leftovers for Jo and Tamara for when they got back, then went out to the dining room to see what Bobby had to show them.

Bobby was standing to one side of the dining table with a soup pot in front of him.

“What’s this, Bobby? You starting a cooking show?”

“Very funny. Shaddup, ya idjit, and pay attention. Going by other accounts and what I’ve witnessed in the past, Hellhounds should start sniffing around here soon. As Dean’s time winds down they _will_ get more and more aggressive.”

Dean’s smirk died. “I can handle a bunch of mutts, Bobby. Hell’s bitches or not.”

Dean started when Ellen slapped the back of his head. “Watch your language.” she growled at Dean, even as Sam snorted in amusement.

“You won’t be able to handle anything if you can’t see them, jackass.” Bobby retorted.

“What?”

“Hellhounds are invisible, Dean.” Sam said.

“Oh yeah… I knew that.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then smiled affectionately at his husband.

Bobby turned to pick up a plastic shopping bag off of the floor then dumped its contents into the soup pot.

The four of them all leaned on the table to look in the pot.

“Eyeglasses?” asked Isaac.

“Yep.” Bobby answered, popping the ‘p’ at the end. He then picked up the small clay jug sitting next to the pot, pulled out the cork stopper and poured its contents liberally over the variety of eyeglasses sitting in the pot. “Eyeglasses or any kind of glass cleansed with holy oil allows us to see the hellhounds.”

“Cool.” Dean chuckled. “3D Hellhound Vision! So you pour oil on it then what? Say some incantation?”

“Nope.” Bobby said, popping the ‘p’ again just as he struck a match and threw it in the pot.

The other four stepped back and stared in shock as a bright white flame shot straight up into the air.

“Well, there go the glasses with plastic frames I saw in there. Seems like a waste of money to me.” Isaac muttered.

Bobby just smirked as he watched the white flame quickly die down then go out. He then picked up the pot and turned it over. The eyeglasses tumbled out and spread across the table; not a single one of them burned or even damaged.

“Pick your poison.” Bobby said, even as he picked up a pair with a thin silver frame and square lenses.

Dean slid a pink plastic set with heart-shaped lenses towards Sam with a snort. “Here ya go, Sammy. Pretty glasses for my pretty baby.”

Rolling his eyes at his husband, Sam chose a sturdy black pair with thick, square frames while Isaac grabbed up two pairs in the same style - “One for me, one for Tam.” he said - and Ellen chose a gold cat-eyed style. All that was left on the table was a bright blue sports style, the pink heart frames and a white one with cherries printed on them.

“Blue it is.” Dean murmured. “Jo can have her pick of the last two.” he chortled.

“You know my daughter won’t wear those.” Ellen cocked a brow at him.

“Well, too bad. She’s not here, first come, first served.”

Just then, a phone on the table began to ring.

Everyone looked around for where it was coming from, Sam and Dean even patting their own pockets but both remembering they’d left their phones in their room just as Ellen flipped a document over to expose the ringing phone and claiming it as hers.

“It’s Jo.” she said, with a glance at the screen before hitting the Call button then putting it to her ear. Her relaxed expression turned into a frown as she listened in on what the others could plainly hear was Jo Harvelle shouting through the phone.

Bobby pointed at the phone then his ear, indicating that Ellen should put it on speaker, which she immediately did.

“Jo honey, repeat what you said, I’ve got you on speaker, everyone here is listening… what’s going on?!” Ellen demanded.

‘Mom! We’re heading back! Hellhounds attacked us at the bottom of the mountain, right at the turnoff for the highway. One of them nearly got Talbot and she’s hurt!”

“Tamara! Where’s my wife?!” Isaac shouted, leaning over the table.

Tamara’s strained voice came through the phone. “I’m here, Isaac. I’m fine. Bela’s the only one hurt.”

Then Jo’s voice took over again. “Bela begged us not to take her to a doctor and asked to return to the lodge, and we’ve been trying to call you guys for half an hour but couldn’t get through. We’re about ten minutes away now and only now were we able to get through.”

Isaac, Sam, and Dean pulled what guns they had on them then rushed for the front of the lodge and out the front door.

“Be careful. Get here safely.” Ellen instructed her daughter as she and Bobby moved to follow the others, Bobby pausing to pick up two shotguns he’d had leaning against the wall near the front door. “We’re all waiting out front for you.”

As soon as Ellen hung up and slipped her phone into her pocket, Bobby handed her one of the shotguns and the two walked out to join the others at the end of the short driveway.

 

 

Ellen looked up at Bobby just as she finished dressing Bela’s wounds. The hellhound had left her with long, but shallow scratches across her midriff and the Englishwoman impressed even Bobby when she allowed Ellen to clean then dress the painful scratches without making a single sound.

Holding a hand to her stomach, Bela grimaced as she sat up and pulled her shirt down. “Thanks for the patch job, now I’m gonna go find Singer’s stash of expensive liquor and get drunk.”

Bobby frowned, his mouth flopping open in protest.

“ _Don’t_ even try to deny it, Bobby. I know you better than you think I do. Lushes like you never go far without their chosen poison.” Bela said, holding up one hand to stay Bobby’s objections.

“Hold up, Talbot. Take one of these.” Ellen said, holding up the last two pairs of sanctified glasses. “These glasses will help us to see the hellhounds.”

“Oh? Could’ve used these earlier.” She plucked the pink ones out of Ellen’s hands, smiling slightly. “These are cute and totally me.” she said, as she slid them on, then did a little pose before clutching at her stomach with a grimace of pain as she shuffled off into the kitchen.

Ellen then turned to offer the last pair to Jo. She wasn’t surprised when her daughter frowned and turned them down.

“I’m not wearing those.” she said, emphatically.

Dean grinned at Ellen’s exasperated huff. “It’s the only way you’ll be able to see the hellhounds. You can’t fight them properly if you can’t see them.”

“And just because I’m a girl I get the frou-frou glasses?!” Jo snapped. “No thanks. I’ll take my chances without them.”

“Joanna Beth Harvelle!” Ellen scolded. “You’re being ridiculous, at least they’re not the pink ones!”

“No _those_ are funny and obviously meant to _be_ funny, but these are just out and out _girly_! I’m not wearing them! Isn’t there another pair I can wear?” she asked, looking around at the others.

Everyone had pocketed their glasses as soon as they picked them - Isaac just then reassuring Tamara he had hers - except for Dean who had pushed his up on top of his head after trying them on.

In a flash of blonde hair, Jo leapt on Dean and pulled him down into a headlock. Taking advantage of the surprise and his refusal to fight her off, Jo snatched the sports glasses off of Dean’s head, then released him and backed quickly away from him.

In grabbing the glasses she’d managed to ruffle up Dean’s hair and his normally careful spiking was in disarray as he straightened back up and glared at the others in the room who were fighting back their amusement.

His annoyance melted into a haughty attitude as he sauntered over to Ellen and plucked the cherry printed frames from her grasp and slipped them on his face.

“Fine.” He said, in a deep, raspy voice. “I’m man enough to make even these things look hot.” Twisting sensually on the spot, he fixed Sam with a heated look. “Don’t you think, baby?”

Sam’s laugh choked off as his jeans suddenly seemed to tighten around his crotch and all he could do was nod dumbly.

Smirking triumphantly, Dean shot Jo, who was staring at him with a dumbstruck expression, a pleased smile, then turned back to Bobby.

“Okay, Hellhound Vision taken care of. What’s next?”

“Well, you’ve taken the potion already, so now we get you in the bottle.”

“What?! No way, man! I know I agreed to get in the bottle but I’ve still got about twelve hours left. I’m not leaving Sam any sooner than I have to!”

“Dean, hellhounds already attacked the girls. It won’t be long before they get here, hell, for all we know they could be outside as we speak!”

Just then, a loud thump came from the living room and when the hunters all rushed to see what it was another heavier thump and growling came from the front door of the cabin.

“Speak of the devil-dogs.” Tamara muttered.

Everyone rushed to pick up or pull out their weapons even as Ellen shouted out reassurances. “Don’t worry we’ve got every room salted and lined with goofer dust.”

Bela came hurrying into the room, wiping at her mouth even as she hefted a slim, silver plated pistol in her other hand. “What’s going on?!” she asked, worriedly.

“What were you doing?” Bobby asked her, suspicion lining his features.

“I was hungry. Found some food in the kitchen so I was eating. Why?”

Tamara and Jo shot her annoyed looks. “That was probably our food!” Jo growled.

“You snooze, you lose, blondie.”

They all whirled as one when the large, glass patio door in the dining room suddenly shattered and a strong, cold breeze gusted into the cabin.

Cursing, Bobby rushed to grab up a bag of goofer dust even as Sam snatched up another bag filled with rock salt, and the two men moved to set a double line of the bags’ ingredients across the opening into the dining room.

Suddenly, Isaac leapt over the double lines and dashed into the dining room, his wife crying out with alarm.

“ISAAC!” Tamara screamed even as the others spotted something large entering through the broken patio door.

“Isaac, you idjit! Get back here!” Bobby shouted.

“The bottle!” the hunter shouted back, just as he reached the side table where the bottle was sitting; where they’d all, except for Isaac, forgot about it.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

Isaac snatched up the bottle and lobbed it through the dining room’s doorway like he was throwing a football. The bottle flying through the air in a gentle twirling arc straight at Dean, who still had to jump up into the air to grab it and pull it safely against his chest.

Then they all watched in horror as a huge, red and black beast rose up behind Isaac and snapped its jaws around the back of Isaac’s head. The hunter’s face going slack and wide-eyed at the shock, then twisted in unimaginable pain. The monster’s jaws then flexed as its teeth dug deeper before finally ripping Isaac’s head clean off.

Tamara’s soul-rending scream made the beast pause but galvanized the rest of the hunters and they all began to unload their weapons into it.

The hellhound snorted, shaking its head as if shaking off bothersome flies and began stalking toward them.

“Tamara! NO!” Ellen shouted even as the taller female shoved Jo to the side, causing her to fall and break the double lines of salt and goofer dust Bobby and Sam had set down.

The inconsolable woman staggered toward the hellhound, her tear-swollen gaze fixated on the body of her dead husband. As she went she dropped her weapons and just walked around the hellhound. The beast not seeming to even notice her as it fixed it’s glowing red eyes on Dean.

From behind Dean, where Bela had run for safety as she struggled to reload her gun, the Englishwoman elbowed Dean’s back sharply as she hissed at him.

“Activate the Echo Jar, Dean! Do it now, or we all die!”

“Are you fuckin’ nuts? I’m not leaving Sam _now_!”

“They will just keep coming!” Bela shouted, as she resumed shooting at the hellhound.

The room was filling with gunsmoke and Jo’s shotgun boomed deafeningly in the close confines of the living room.

“She’s right!” Bobby shouted. “I’ve seen it before. They won’t stop as long as you’re still here!”

“There’s more at the door!” screamed Ellen, dropping her spent revolvers and snatching up another shotgun. The boom of the weapon joining her daughter’s.

Beyond the bulk of the first hellhound Tamara rose to her feet with two silver knives in hand. Leaping on the back of the creature she drove them into the beast with a screech of fury. The massive creature roared, then bucked her off. When she struggled to get back to her feet, it swatted at her with one large paw sending her crashing into the nearest wall to crumple to the floor out cold.

Sam dove and wrapped his arms around both Dean and the jar and pushed him to the side even as the huge beast made one last lunge towards Dean; it’s body thumping heavily onto the floor, two feet short of it’s target. It’s huge head dropping to the floor as the dark red of it’s eyes began to fade.

“Go now, Dean. I’ll take out Lilith, I’ll find a way and then I’ll bring you back. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I don’t care about me, Sam! You promise me, you promise right the fuck now! Don’t leave me again. Don’t. Get. _Dead_!”

“I promise, baby, I promise!”

Dean nodded, limpid moss-green eyes staring intently into Sam’s kaleidoscope of brown, green, and blues. His little brother’s eyes never failing to amaze him, even now, in this unlikely of romantic moments.

Tearing his eyes from Sam’s, Dean looked down at the large jar as he took it into his hands and began reciting the Latin incantation he’d memorized a few hours before. “ _Psyche exaudi orationem meam..._ ”

Sam, the nerd that he was, obviously having memorized it too, reminded him of the parts Dean faltered on. Both men unaware that Bela had ceased firing and was watching Dean intently.

As soon as Dean finished the incantation, the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees and a white mist began to billow and build at Dean’s feet; spreading out rapidly until the living room and part of the dining room was filled with an icy, glowing fog.

As the fog spread, every time it touched one of the remaining hellhounds, the beast would yelp or whine in pain, then back away from the fog. The largest hound was slowly getting covered by the fog and though it whimpered and snapped it’s jaws weakly it didn’t move. It was obviously no longer a threat to any of them.

When the fog pushed the other hellhounds back far enough, Ellen and Jo rushed to Tamara’s side and working together, carried her unconscious form into the living room and laid her gently on the couch.

Just then, the fog’s glow began to intensify. The remaining hellhounds gave out frightened squeals and ran out of the house, leaving behind the dying hound on the floor, with obvious reluctance.

Sam had by then dropped his gun and cupped his hands under Dean’s. He’d seen the jar settle then wobble as Dean’s body began to diffuse even as the light from the fog got brighter and brighter.

Just as the bottle dropped through Dean’s hands and into Sam’s, Dean’s wide, green eyes shot up to Sam’s and as he began to fade away, Sam quickly blurted out everything he’d always wanted to say out loud to his brother but didn’t, because he knew it would make his brother uncomfortable.

“I love you, Dean! I’ve always loved you. I would’ve waited for you, forever, if I had to, that’s how much I love you. Do you hear me, Dean?”

Sam could no longer feel Dean’s hands but he could still make out his brother’s shoulders, neck and head and Dean was nodding furiously, grinning happily. Then like a whisper on a wind, Dean’s voice came to him just a second before his mouth actually moved. “You’re just a big girl, Sammy.” 

Sam couldn’t help but laugh even as his eyes filled with tears.

“I’ll get Lilith, and I’ll free you, Dean. I swear it, man. I love you - love you so goddamn much.”

Dean was nearly completely faded away now, only his eyes still vibrant enough to be seen. “...love you.” came Dean’s voice, almost too faint to hear.

“And Dean, I promise to also take care of your… take care of _our_ Baby.”

Suddenly the large jar, still sitting in Sam’s hands, began to glow as brightly as the fog. The large cork stopper popped out and Sam was able to catch it with one hand while still carefully balancing the large jar in his other hand.

Almost immediately after the cork popped off, a portion of the glowing fog swirled up from the floor in a tornadic fashion then began flowing into the jar. As it went, Sam gasped as the jar began to reshape itself.

Sam was at first worried about dropping it, but it was soon apparent that the jar wasn’t trying to escape and was in fact staying perfectly balanced in the palm of Sam’s hand. When it finally stopped shifting and twisting in his hand, Sam laughed when he saw its new shape.

In the dining room, Bobby, Jo and Ellen had worked together to move Isaac’s body and head into the living room, covering the remains with a blanket that had been left on a nearby chair.

Sam’s laughter coming at such an inappropriate time caused the three to turn and stare incredulously at Sam.

However, when Bobby saw the jar’s new shape, even he couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Figures that Dean Winchester’s echo jar would take the shape of a whiskey bottle. Jim Beam, one of his favorite brands, too.”

“Right?” Sam smirked, as he screwed the cap (formerly a large, stained cork stopper) on the bottle, then frowned when it unscrewed and popped back off; forcing Sam to catch it before it could fall to the still foggy, glowing floor.

Jo seemed to notice the fog too at the same time but was the first to mention it even as Sam tried to put the cap on the bottle again, only to have it pop off again.

“If Dean’s in the bottle why is all this freaky fog still here?” Jo asked.

Sam grunted. “And why won’t this stupid cap stay on the bottle?!”

“Sam! Behind you!” Ellen suddenly shouted.

Sam whirled in place, instinctively holding the bottle close to his chest even as his other hand clenched protectively around the cap.

Using the bulk of Sam’s body, Bela had succeeded in hiding herself from the others until now. But now, it was too late for any of them to stop her.

“The fog is waiting for me, you chumps.” she said, with false cheer. “And so is the bottle.”

They could all see how the annoying Brit was fading out just as Dean had, Bobby seemed to be the only one having a hard time understanding what was happening. “What?! H-how? WHY?!”

“Really, Singer. All the research you’ve done on hellhounds you claim to have done, you should’ve known that they don’t attack anyone except for their target and those who are directly blocking them from said target. You should’ve questioned why the hellhounds attacked us at the bottom of the mountain when Dean was nowhere near us.”

Bobby’s eyes closed in exasperation as he finally picked up what Bela was trying to say.

“I don’t understand.” Ellen grumbled.

“The hellhounds didn’t come early for Dean. They came for _her_. She must’ve cut a deal at a crossroads and now her time is up.”

“Correct, Gigantor gets a cookie.” Bela snarked as she raised one hand up to stare in fascination as she continued to fade. “I was gonna use the echo jar for me but didn’t have the scrolls that were supposed to be with it.”

“The potion recipe, the incantation.”

“Correct! So after I snagged the scrolls I was gonna head back to my own jar and go into hiding, but the hellhounds found me again and I had no choice but to change plans. Thank you, by the way, for leaving enough of the potion in the kitchen for me to find and drink. After that, all I had to do was wait for Dean to say the words, repeat them and go into hiding with him.”

By the time Bela had finished talking, the others had all had to move closer to hear her as she and her voice faded out.

“Don’t worry, Sam. I’ll take _good_ care of your hubby.” she said with a salacious wink before fading out completely.

She disappeared in a swirl of white smoke into the bottle, just as Dean had, then all the fog in the room began siphoning into it as well. When the last of it slipped through the opening of the bottle the cap in Sam’s other hand rose up into the air, flew to the bottle and screwed itself on.

Sam and the others were left standing in the now eerie quiet. The sound of the growling and whimpering hellhounds outside having fallen silent, too.

“Guys…” Ellen said, her voice tight with worry. “Where’d the body go?”

Bobby and Sam turned to look at her and she and Jo were staring at an empty patch of floor, only then did it register to Sam that she was talking about the body of the dead or dying hellhound.

Turning his gaze to the bottle in his hand, Sam gasped softly. “Oh no.”

 

 

Dean was falling through layer upon layer of white clouds. The last thing he saw before everything turned white around him was Sam’s beautiful eyes, awash with tears, staring intently at him. Then, just as he was losing consciousness, Sam’s last words floated to him, barely there but still discernible.

_“...take care of our Baby.”_ Sam had said.

A smile formed on Dean’s lips as his eyes began to flutter; an irresistible lethargy filling his entire body. “Our baby.” he murmured, before closing his eyes and letting the clouds take him wherever it would.


	5. Chapter 5

*click* _You’ve reached Dean’s other, OTHER phone. You know what to do._

*beep*

“Hey Dean. It’s me, Sam. Well, I’m sure you know that, I just… *deep sigh* It’s been three days since you left. I miss you. Been calling your phone just to hear your voice, then decided to leave you a message this time. Sort of like a status report. So, anyways… we gave Isaac a hunter’s burial yesterday and Tamara is recovering from her injuries just fine. She’s grieving badly for her husband and Ellen has sort of taken her under her wing. I don’t know if you know this, but Bela followed you into the bottle. The hellhounds weren’t here for you, they were here for HER. Apparently, she made a crossroads deal a little over ten years ago and has been evading the hounds for months. Also, when all that white fog got pulled into the bottle, the body of the dying hellhound apparently went with it. We’re worried that both Bela and that monster could be in the bottle with you. Please be okay. I love you.”

 

 

Dean jolted awake to the sharp sting of pain to his left cheek.

“Ow.” he groaned, even as his brain registered the slap to his face for what it was. Prying his eyes open, he searched for, then settled his gaze accusingly on the Englishwoman crouched beside him. “What the hell was that for?!” he growled at her.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did to you! I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to wake up for two hours now! But now it’s getting dark and I think there’s something stalking us.”

Dean shook his head, then winced and clapped one hand to his forehead as the movement sent a stab of pain through his throbbing head. “Ungh… god-DAMN that hurt!” he mumbled. “Where’s Sam? How much did I have to drink?”

Beside him Bela huffed in annoyance, then braced one hand against his chest as she pushed back up to her feet. “Sam’s not here, you moron. We’re in the blasted bottle, remember?”

“Bottle? What?!”

“The echo jar. It turned into a bottle when you went in, a Jim Beam whiskey bottle to be precise, so I guess it’s now an echo bottle.” Bela paused in her tirade then tilted her head as her brow creased in thought. “Echo bottle… doesn’t have much of a ring to it. I think I’ll stick to calling it ‘echo jar’.”

“I’m in the bottle? I mean, jar?! If I’m in the jar why the hell are you here?”

“Duh! I followed you, of course. You aren’t the only one they’re after.”

“So _that’s_ why you’ve been so helpful in getting the jar. It had nothing to do with you owing Bobby a favor.”

“Oh, that was just a small part of it. It was a good cover for getting to hang around and learning what you and your brother were planning to get you out of your deal.” Bela said dismissively, as she turned her back to Dean and began scanning their surroundings. “Despite my low regard for you and your brother, one thing I’ve noticed about you Winchesters is no matter what kind of hot water you land yourselves in, you always seem to somehow get yourselves out of it. Maybe not on top, but alive - and staying alive has become my main goal, lately..”

“So what… were you planning on stealing the jar all this time? Why bring it to us in the first place? Why not just use it yourself?”

“Pssh… I didn’t need the jar. I have another jar back at my condo. What I didn’t have were the scrolls Tamara and Isaac found. I waited for Bobby to brew up the potion and translate the text enough to work out which part was the incantation and the instructions on how to activate the jar. Then, when he and the others weren’t looking, I stashed the scrolls in my case and made a big to-do about wanting to leave.”

“But the hellhounds found you when you left the mountain. Bet that put a _kibosh_ on your plans.” Dean grunted, as he rolled to his side until he was braced on his hands and knees. Head hung down as he struggled to quell a sudden bout of queasiness.

“Yeah, well… the spell I cast to hide me from them never lasts for long and gets weaker each time I cast it. No biggie. Tamara and the Harvelle girl got me back to the lodge and all I had to do was come up with a plan B.”

Dean finally staggered to his feet, then stood there, hands on knees as he shook off the last of the dizziness. “Plan B being you stowing away on my ride.”

“I thought at first it was actually a better plan if I hitched a ride with you and stay safe in here with you while your hubby-bro and your friends took care of Lilith. After all, she holds all contracts. If they take her out, then my contract will also be null and void.”

“At first?” Dean asked, as he straightened up and took a good look around them, mildly shocked yet pleased at the sight of the verdant, peaceful woodlands that surrounded them, before turning to look back at the Englishwoman, who was looking around them in a nervous and fearful fashion. “What do you mean, ‘at first’? What’s changed?” Dean demanded.

Darting a glance at Dean before returning her gaze to a particularly dense stand of brush about fifteen feet away from them, Bela whispered tentatively. “For one, I think something is stalking us. The other…” she got cut off when the brush suddenly shook as if someone or something was pushing its way through it.

Dean slapped at his hips and chest, only then realizing he was only wearing a thin tee and a ragged pair of jeans. As his bare feet shifted about in the fallen leaves that carpeted the ground, he mentally cursed himself for going into the bottle without being fully dressed and geared up. But events back at the lodge had gone down so quickly he hadn’t had time to think of getting dressed and he’d dropped his gun when he’d taken the jar in his hands and began the incantation.

“Here!” Bela hissed, tossing something at him.

Dean instinctively grabbed what she’d thrown out of the air and was immensely gratified to realize it was one of her silver-plated handguns. She, at least had entered the bottle dressed for the outdoors and carrying weapons, Dean thought enviously, as he saw her also pulling a large, silver knife from a sheathe strapped to the waist of her jeans.

A growl and the shaking of bushes pulled his attention back to their current predicament when suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, a large tawny shape darted from behind a stand of trees and crashed into the shifting bushes.

Leaves and branches exploded as snarls and roars filled the air.

Grabbing Bela by one wrist Dean forced her to run towards another dense stand of trees then turned to face the melee behind them.

“We should keep running!” Bela screeched at him, jerking her arm to make Dean let go of her.

“We don’t know what we’re up against! Two large animals are fighting each other, we don’t know if the winner will start hunting us! We stand a better chance with these trees protecting our backs than we do running into unknown territory!”

Just then, two large bodies fell out of the bushes, fighting madly with claws, teeth and - was that a mace-like tail? -. One was obviously a large, shaggy black dog while the other was a heavily muscled nightmare version of a mountain lion.

The head of the lion was wide and flat with viperous green eyes. It’s large maw filled with dagger-like teeth, each large paw adorned with long curving talons and its short, muscular tail had a ball-shaped bulb on the end of it that sported five or six scimitar-shaped bone blades on it. As the bulb thrashed wildly behind the cat, Dean could see how easily the blades were tearing up the foliage and the ground itself. It made him sick to his stomach to think of how much damage one hit from that tail could cause.

When Bela screamed at the site of the monstrous cat, it whirled towards her and bunched its legs beneath it, as if about to leap at her, Dean raised the gun even as he instinctively stepped in front of the woman.

To his surprise, the black dog’s impressively fanged mouth latched onto the cat’s tail, digging in right above the dangerous bulb, and dragged the monster back away from Dean and Bela.

Despite its heavily muscled frame, the cat turned sinuously to slash at the dog, opening up four large cuts on its flanks and causing the dog to whimper loudly in pain. But the dog _still_ wouldn’t let go of the cat’s tail. In fact, the large dog planted its feet firmly in the soft forest floor then whipped its head left and right in savage short motions until it ripped the end of the cats tail completely from its body, a gush of blood spraying the ground and trees around them.

The cat’s yowls rose in pitch as it turned on the dog and began slashing wildly at it, the creature obviously having gone mad with the pain. The dog was clearly outmatched as it frantically tried to fight back against the much bigger, enraged feline.

With only a second’s thought, Dean turned and grabbed the knife out of Bela’s shaking hand then turned back to the fighting animals, face hard with determination.

“Dean, don’t! It’s too dangerous!” Bela shouted, to no avail.

Dean didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain the dog had just saved them, and he refused to not try and return the favor.

Aiming carefully, Dean shot bullet after bullet into the monster-lion, dodging slashing claws as he worked around the two. Every time the cat tried to turn to Dean, the dog would attack, bringing its attention back into the fight.

Finally, Dean saw an opening. Dropping the gun, Dean made a wild leap, Bela’s shout of alarm ringing in his ears even as he landed squared on the upper back of the lion and plunged her silver knife between the shoulder blades of the monster then twisting it.

The monster’s roars rose into a high-pitched squeal even as its rear end dropped uselessly to the forest floor; Dean having severed its spinal cord. Taking full advantage, the dog ducked its head under the lions chin and latched onto its throat. The strong bite instantly choking off the monsters wails, before the dog gave a heaving, massive twist of its head and ripped out the throat of the lion.

More blood gushed from the gaping wound, the viper-slitted yellow eyes instantly began to fade as its upper body and head slowly dropped to the forest floor.

Dean slid off the carcass then slowly backed away as the bloodied and slashed dog got to its feet then lifted its head to look at Dean.

It followed Dean by stepping onto the downed cat and treading over it until it dropped back down to the ground on the other side of the beast.

“Out of the way, Dean. I’ve got the gun. I’m sure I can get it in the head from this distance.”

The dog stopped and cocked a head at Bela, looked back at Dean, then whined entreatingly.

To their shock, it dropped its upper body to the ground, long-plumed tail going straight up in the air. It’s lower jaw dropped in a canine smile before it wriggled its rear and gave Dean a puppy bark.

“Holy hell, Winchester. I think you just got yourself a new pet.” Bela said, in awe.

When Dean reached out a cautious hand to the dog and it instantly began licking and rubbing its head against him, Dean chuckled in shocked amusement. “I-I guess I did. Hey boy.” He said, then leaned to the side and checked out the back end of the dog. “Oops, sorry. Hi girl.”

“Sam is gonna love this.” Dean smiled as he leaned in to give the dog a good head rub and some scratches behind the ears. “He’s always wanted a dog.”

Just then, a shaft of light coming from the setting sun, broke through the trees and lit up Dean and the dog. Bela gasped then took a step back, one hand rising to point at Dean's new pet.

“I-I don’t think that’s a regular dog, Dean.” she said, weakly.

Dean frowned, then turned to look down at the dog; into eyes that were, now in the light of the sun, a discernible dark red color.

As the dog stared trustingly up at him, Dean let one hand trail down the dog’s neck, then to its upper back where he could feel the raised scars from where Tamara had stabbed it.

“This is the hellhound Tamara tried to kill. Except for her eyes and teeth, she’d been changed into a regular dog. A huge dog, but still a dog. I think I’ll call her Styx.”

“Sticks?”

“No, _Styx_... like that river in Hell. She _is_ a hellhound after all.”

“Yeah, right. And it has nothing to do with your love for outdated American rock n’ roll, right?”

“No, the fact that it’s also the name of an awesome _classic_ metal band, is just a bonus.”

“Yeah well, she’s not the only one that’s gone through a big change.” Bela stated.

Dean turned to look at her, eyeing her up and down.

“Not _me_ , you moron! I’m talking about _you_!” she snapped, pointing sharply at his midsection.

Dean glanced down the length of his body then jerked in surprise when he spied the rounded shape of his formerly flat and tight belly. “What the…!” he shouted in consternation.

Grabbing the hem of his tee, Dean lifted it then gaped wider at the telltale bulge under creamy white skin dotted faintly with freckles and complete with a distended belly button.

“Either you swallowed a basketball, are about to have an alien rip its way out of you, or you’re about three months pregnant.”

Dean’s eyes widened even more as he felt a flutter of movement deep inside of him just as his shocked gaze took in the corresponding movement of his rounded belly.

He jerked his wide gaze back up at Bela, his breath now coming in fast, hurried pants.

“Dean.” Bela said cautiously as she took a step closer to him. “Slow down your breathing or you’re gonna… dammit!” she cursed as she watched Dean’s eyes roll up just as his body began to crumple.

Quickly, she darted forward and caught him about the waist. His weight was too much for her and she ended up falling as well. On their way down she made sure to turn him so that he landed on his rear, with her taking the worst of the impact to the ground.

“Oh bollocks! Of _course_ you’d weigh a ton!” Bela cursed, face turning red from trying to roll Dean partially off of her so she could breathe.

Styx whimpered as she stepped up to their side and leaned in to sniff worriedly at Dean’s slack face. She then licked at Bela’s cheek while continuing to whimper.

“Oh gawd! Your breath smells like sulphur! Get away, you useless mutt! Why don’t you do a ‘Lassie’ and go get help, huh?”

To her surprise, Styx nodded her head once then trotted off, looking as if she knew where she was going.

“Oh great. I’ve got an unconscious pregnant man and a dog that understands English . What other crazy mess have I gotten myself into?”


	6. Chapter 6

  
  
*click* _You’ve reached Dean’s other, OTHER phone. You know what to do._

*beep*

“Hey, it’s me. *pained groan* It’s been almost two weeks since you left. We’re all still together - Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Tamara and me - but we’ve also added Rufus to the team and I intro’d Ash to Pastor Jim and they’re working together to send us info on finding and killing Lilith. *sigh* She hasn’t been making it easy. Even as we’re hunting her, she’s got demons hunting us; all of them demanding to know where you are… all except for this one poncey little dude that keeps demanding to know where his hellhound is. *snort*  
This old phone of yours doesn’t have much space for voicemails, so from here on, I’ll have to keep it short. I know you don’t have your phone with you, and I know this is bordering on a chick flick moment, but… but I miss you. I miss you so much, baby. Gotta go, and yeah, I know you don’t like being called ‘baby’. But, you know what? Tough!” *chuckle* 

*beep*

*click*

 

 

“I didn’t faint.”

“Oh, you _so_ fainted.”

“I lost consciousness!”

“No, darling you full on swooned. Eyes rolled back, body wilting like a flower. I was there, I kept your thick head from hitting the ground, so I would know… what? Are you pouting? Dean Winchester fainted and is actually pouting about it like a little girl right now!”

“I. Am. _Not_. POUTING!”

“Bela, dear… you really shouldn’t tease him so. He can’t help being a bit, um… delicate. The pregnancy hormones have his emotions all over the place.” said the woman sitting in the booth across from Dean and Bela.

Dean shot a glare at the woman, taking in her perfectly styled, platinum blonde hair that fell around her shoulders in glossy curls. The alabaster flawless skin, dark pink pouty lips and large, thickly fringed aquamarine blue eyes completed the near perfection of her beauty. She was a stunner and if Dean needed any more proof that he was completely and utterly gone on Sam, Priscilla -’call me Prissy’- Archer was a perfect example.

The woman was dressed like a naughty real estate agent but had introduced herself as the mayor of Whimsy, a bizarre little mountain town that Dean had woken up in a mere two hours ago.

Bela had informed him that about twenty minutes after he’d ‘ _lost consciousness_ ’ the hound, Styx, had returned with Prissy and four burly lumberjack type of men who had carried Dean into town and taken him to their one and only clinic run by a married couple who were both doctors, the wife a general practitioner, the husband a heart surgeon.

He’d apparently been out for over twelve hours and in that time word had spread fast about the pregnant man that had been rescued.

When Dean had finally awoken, he’d found himself in a small, yet surprisingly comfortable hospital room decorated in soothing hues of cream and beige. The stark white sheets of the hospital bed was even softened by a handmade quilt in a riot of fall colors that covered the lower half of his body and the bed, making Dean feel so comfortable and toasty warm, he’d been loathe to leave the bed a couple hours later.

While the doctors were checking him over, they’d explained that other than the astounding fact that he _was_ indeed pregnant, Dean was in remarkably good health. 

Mr. and Mrs. Doctor, as Dean referred to them, whose last names were actually Hammond, had both openly laughed when he’d asked if he was still _him_ down below, before reassuring him that all was as it should be. As far as they could tell by the myriad of tests they’d done on him, the only thing out of place on his body was the fully functioning and fully occupied womb in his body.

When Dean had asked how he was supposed to birth the baby when the time came, Mrs. Doctor had smiled happily and turned to her husband with one hand held out, palm up; a smug grin on her face. Her husband had only rolled his eyes, pulled a twenty out of his wallet, then handed it to his wife.

At Dean’s confused look, Mrs. Doctor hastened to explain. “My husband thought you’d wanna try and abort the baby, but I bet him that you’d wanna keep it. You asking how the baby will be born proves you’re not thinking of abortion, so I won.” She paused to look at Dean with a slight frown. “You _are_ gonna keep it, right?”

Before the two doctors or even Bela could even realize what was happening, Dean had snatched up the sharply pointed scissors off of a nearby tray and pulled the male doctor into a loose chokehold as he pressed the scissors warningly against the doctor’s throat, right where Dean knew the carotid artery to be.

“ _No one_ is touching Sam’s baby… _our_ baby! YOU HEAR ME?!” Dean snarled, furiously.

Surprisingly, it had been Bela’s mocking him by calling him a ‘grumpy mama bear’ to snap Dean out of the red rage that had clouded his thoughts and vision at the time. Her lack of fear and sardonic humor brought him around enough so that he could turn to shoot her a glare. Then, he’d found himself lightheaded at the swift and all-consuming rage that had taken him over at the thought of anyone hurting his baby. _Their_ baby.

“Girl or not, Talbot. Call me ‘Mama Bear’ again and I’ll slap you silly.” he growled at her.

The woman only rolled her eyes at him, then told him to let the doctors finish their exam, then for him to get dressed and meet her at the diner across the street.

When she’d left, the doctors, reverting to their professional facades, finished their work, proclaimed him ready to go, then practically pushed him out the door with a list of prenatal vitamins he needed to be taking and pamphlets about Cesarean births.

Now, here they were, he and Bela, sitting in the diner with the mayor of Weirdsville, while his new dog sat outside waiting patiently for him; the people wanting to enter the diner giving the large hound a wide berth.

“So!” Prissy chirped, giddily. “Let me officially welcome you both to Whimsy. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions and I’ll be more than happy to answer them as we eat. Please, order anything you’d like, this meal’s on me and the good citizens of Whimsy. I highly recommend the chicken-fried steak with mash, and they make _the best_ pies here.”

Dean couldn’t help but perk up at her last words. A waitress walked up to them and took their orders and after she left, Prissy started off with what sounded like a prepared speech.

“Okay, first things first. Everyone in this town came through an Echo Vessel to get here. The vessels were all created by the Goddess Psyche to aid any humans who were in desperate need of sanctuary. A place where the person could live happily ever after or to hide out for however long they needed before leaving again.” Prissy paused to point one well-manicured finger at Bela, then at Dean. “Let me make it completely clear, that _no one_ is kept here against their will. Anyone wishing to leave only need say something like...

****

Psyche, Psyche, Psyche  
No longer need I roam.  
Return me now I beg of you  
To that which I call home.”

“That’s it? No fancy Latin incantation like what we used to get in here?” Bela asked.

Prissy snorted and waved one hand dismissively. “Nah, all you really need to do is drink the potion, then say Psyche’s name, along with some words like ‘help, aid, and sanctuary’ in whatever combination you want and to be holding an unoccupied bottle to open the way. Psyche doesn’t really care about formalities.”

“And to go back?” Bela asked.

“Say her name again and use ‘return’ and ‘home’... or die.”

“What? Die! I thought this place was safe. The texts all say we’d be immortal in here!”

Prissy laughed as she clapped her hands in delight. “Immortal! Oh no, no, no dear. You are all still mortal, you just don’t age. You… I mean _we_ , can all still die by other means. This is a Sanctuary from your own troubles, but this is also a world with rules of its own. How can one appreciate the life they’ve been given if there is no chance of ever losing that life, hm? Am I right?”

“How were Bela and Styx able to follow me in, anyways?” Dean interjected.

“Styx?”

“The dog.”

“Oh, you mean the hellhound.”

“You know what it is?” Bela exclaimed.

“Of course. It’s not really a hellhound anymore, by the way. The magic transformed her to make her more compatible with you. You named her Styx?” 

Bela pointed a finger accusingly at Dean. 

“Very cute and appropriate. As for why you two were able to follow Dean, it’s because of the magic of the vessel and the potion. Dean opened the way and the vessel accepted those within its grasp that wanted to follow Dean and had enough magical properties in their system to be able to do so. Hellhounds are magical to begin with, even if they are creatures of Hell, and you must’ve also drank the potion.”

Bela nodded.

“Back in our world, Styx wanted nothing more than to kill me and the others with me. Why is she now acting like she’s my protector?” Dean asked, glancing out the window to see that Styx had moved along the outside of the building until she was positioned with her back to their window; sitting upright and constantly glancing around as if keeping watch.

“That I don’t know. I’ve been here a long time and quite a few people have come here to escape their deals, and a few had hellhounds follow them in, as well. But none of the hounds ever transformed in look and temperament like this before. But let me reassure you about her if you still have doubts of her intentions. If Styx was still bent on hurting either of you then the magic of this place would have dealt with her by now.”

“What do you mean?”

This world is a haven for those seeking safety. Anything with a sentient mind, that is not of this world and is also intent on killing or hurting one of our residents would be destroyed by the magic of this place. So, if Styx was transformed into that tamer version of herself and is protecting rather than harming you, then it is most likely because of the magic of the bottle.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“No, as I said, something like Styx has never happened before.”

“Okay, until she gives me any reason to doubt her, I’ll accept that Styx is no longer trying to kill me. In fact, she saved our lives out there in the woods.”

“Yeah, speaking of…” Bela cut in, just as the waitress arrived with a large tray full of the food they’d ordered. She placed the tray on a nearby table, then began setting out the food in front of them just as another waitress Dean hadn’t seen earlier came over with a smaller tray of drinks.

The waitress with the drinks was older and she smiled warmly at Dean and Bela as she passed out the beverages, then turned to nod respectfully at Prissy. “G’morning Prissy. Heard we had some newbies in town. Sorry about the delay with your drinks, Calum _went home_ three days ago and I still haven’t found anyone to replace him.” she said, wearily. Dean now able to read her name tag and realized the woman, Gwen, was actually the owner of the diner. “Lori’s been working the tables on her own while Marge had to take up Calum’s job as the cook. I’ve had to spread my time between the kitchen and the dining room while Lori’s had to work longer hours. I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up.”

“Aw, I’m fine boss, I like the extra pay, even if my boyfriend would prefer I have more time for him.” Lori, said cheerfully. “Plus, all the customers understand about Calum leaving and they’ve all been real nice about the slower service.”

“Be that as it may, we can’t keep up a twenty-four-seven operation for much longer. I’m thinking I’ll have to cut out dinner service and close the diner at three every afternoon.”

“Gwen dear.” Prissy cut in. “You’re forgetting we have two new tenants who will be needing some form of income before long. Throw in Calum’s apartment upstairs and I’m sure Bela and Dean would be more than happy to chip in and help out.”

“Huh, what?” Dean asked, tearing his eyes from the plates of burgers still waiting to be served on the other table, for a mere second, before returning his yearning gaze to the food.

He’d never seen burgers so big and he spotted his right away because of the long, golden brown strips of bacon with cheese, onions and mushrooms oozing down the sides. Dean’s stomach did a weird rolling thing, but it was probably because it’d been many hours since the breakfast Bobby had fed him, and Dean felt so starved that he was just barely refraining from making ‘gimme hands’ at his order.

Gwen laughed. “This boy is too hungry to talk business right now. Why don’t y’all finish your meals then Dean and Bela can come see me later for a job and the apartment. But for now, where will they be staying?” Gwen asked, worry in her gaze as she watched Dean nearly snatching his plate out of Lori’s hand and diving into the food as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

Prissy smiled reassuringly at the kind-hearted woman. “Don’t you worry about them, Gwen darling. The Sanctuary Fund has more than enough to put them up at the Inn for a few days.”

Gwen and Lori then left them alone to enjoy their meal. Though Bela looked as if she had more questions to ask, she too dug into her food as if she was starving.

When Dean and Bela both asked for seconds, Dean also asked if he could have something for Styx to eat and Lori was kind and brave enough to bring a big bowl of raw ground beef and another bowl of water out to the large dog.

Bela passed on dessert, but Dean was able to polish off a large portion of peach cobbler a la mode before he finally declared that he was full.

Prissy then escorted them out of the diner and down the street to the town’s only Inn. It took them a while since Prissy stopped to greet each person they met on their way and even introduced Bela, Dean, and Styx to them. In the lobby of the Inn, she bid them goodbye and reminded them to see Gwen the next morning about a job and a more permanent place to stay.

Bela and Dean collected their keys from the Innkeeper, an elderly gruff man named Gus, who didn’t seem inclined for small talk. He read them the rules, told Dean he could have his dog in the Inn but would be held responsible if Styx misbehaved in any way.

As soon as Gus finished his spiel, Styx backed into a table and sent a white vase crashing to the floor. Dean groaned in disbelief even as Styx ducked her head in shame.

Gus looked ready to throw them right back out. Bela quickly stepped up to the older man, a seductive smile on her face. Turning on her charm, Bela hooked a hand through Gus’ beefy arm and turned him away from Dean and the mess Styx had made, waving at Dean with her other hand behind her back, to go upstairs.

Turning to Styx, he saw how the dog was trying to nose together the two pieces the vase had broken into and Dean rushed to her side.

“No girl, stop. You’ll cut yourself.” Dean pushed the dog aside gently, then crouched to pick up the pieces.

“Let’s go to our room. Maybe I can find some glue and fix this later. It’s okay.”

Styx licked the side of Dean’s face, her sulphur tainted breath making him gag a little, but he smiled and scratched the fur under her chin. “You really _can_ understand everything we’re saying can’t you?”

Styx nodded while looking up at Dean with adoring black eyes, before licking him again.

“You’re welcome. Can’t wait for Sam to meet you. He’s more of a dog person. I never thanked you for saving me from that prehistoric nightmare in the forest, so thank you. Now let’s get some rest.”

Taking the pieces of the vase with him, Dean followed the directions Gus had given them earlier and headed up the stairs with Styx following close behind.

Later, stretched out under the cool sheets of the double bed in his room, Dean heard Bela and Gus talking quietly in the hall outside of his room.

“So, Dean? He your man?” Gus asked.

“Dean? Ha! No, he wishes.”

Even in his half-doze, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Is he really expectin’?”

“He is. The docs confirmed it.”

“Amazing. And a true blessing. There aren’t many children in Whimsy. I miss the sound of their laughter.”

“Aw Gus, who would’ve thought under that gruff exterior beats the heart of a true softie.”

“Aw heck, Miz Bela. I’ll leave you to your rest now. Breakfast will be served at 8 a.m. Have a good night, dear.”

“Good night, Gus.”

That’s the last Dean hears as sleep claims him.

 

 

At midnight, Dean’s bedside phone pulls him out of a deep sleep; the phone’s ring unusually loud.

Grumbling, Dean’s hand shot out from under the covers and snatched up the phone. “Bela, I swear to God, if this is your idea of a joke, I’m gonna…”

*click* _You’ve reached Dean’s other, OTHER phone. You know what to do._

“What the…?!” Dean mumbled, pushing up onto one elbow as he held the phone tighter to his ear.

_*beep* “Hey Dean. It’s me, Sam._

Dean gasped, then shot to a sitting position, both hands now holding the phone so tight his knuckles were white. 

“SAM?!” Dean nearly shouted.

_“Well, I’m sure you know that, I just… *deep sigh* It’s been three days since you left. I miss you. Been calling your phone just to hear your voice, then decided to leave you a message this time. Sort of like a status report. So, anyways…_

When the message finally finished, Dean stabbed frantically at the buttons on the phone base with shaking fingers, but couldn’t get it to play again. And when the beeping that announced a phone being left off the hook began to sound, Dean dropped the receiver into his lap then covered his face with both hands and began to weep without really knowing why he was so emotional.

“Damn hormones.” he mumbled to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

*click* _You’ve reached Dean’s other, OTHER phone. You know what to do._

*beep*

“Dean… we, uh… we lost Tamara today. *sound of a door closing* It’s been a month since you left. I’m sad about Tamara but according to Bobby, Tamara hadn’t been herself since Isaac died. He said she’d become more reckless and cold, whereas, before she’d been professional but caring. He thinks losing Isaac killed what was left of her will to live after their child died.  
I may not have known her before all this started, but she was a good fighter and a friend. I’m gonna miss her. *deep inhale, then exhale*  
The rest of us are fine. Minor scrapes and bruises but we’ve had a breakthrough. At least, Ash and Pastor Jim did. They devised a way to find Lilith by mapping weather anomalies. It seems that Lilith’s evil is so potent that her mere presence messes with nature if she stays in one place for too long.  
She still doesn’t know about the bottle and Bobby came up with some charms that wards us from demons. We all have one. It’s really helped to cut down on demon encounters. Now, instead of constantly running and fighting we can go back to focusing on finding Lilith.  
Anyways, I hope you’re safe wherever you are. Gotta go. Love you.”

 

Gwen’s Place was packed. Not that it was a surprise on a Friday night.

In the three months since Dean and Bela had arrived in Whimsy, changes came over the town that Prissy had told them always happened when new residents came to live in the town. Changes that were almost always for the good of the town and its residents.

The magic of the town always adapted to the era the new residents came from, by adding new elements.

Almost overnight, the drive-in theatre had changed into a multiplex theatre, the diner into a nightclub-slash-karaoke bar that still served food, and computers and internet were now available. Even the local library had been modernized with a multitude of new books and other media for the residents to explore.

The people who ran these places usually knew their jobs well enough to adapt to the changes. For some, it took longer, but eventually they all learned and adapted.

Bela, who’d initially complained and ranted about having to work as a waitress in the diner, slowly complained less and less. Especially after the diner morphed into the trendy karaoke bar and restaurant it now was, she actually seemed to enjoy her work.

Dean, who had always had a love for food, found he enjoyed being a short order cook after a couple days of training with Gwen. With the boom in business, Gwen had also hired new staff.

Despite his belly having grown much larger, Dean was still able to move around pretty freely. Because of the transition into the bottle speeding him past his first three months he hadn’t had to go through any morning sickness, or so the doctors had theorized.

Swollen ankles and aching feet though - those he couldn’t avoid. Two weeks after Dean had taken over the short order cook’s position Gwen moved a plush armchair, matching footstool and a small side table into one corner of the large kitchen. She’d claimed it was for her to relax between meal rushes but everyone, including Dean, knew she’d done it for him.

When Dean glanced up from the countertop where he was prepping the buns for a large order of burgers, the patties sizzling away on the grill behind him, he was reminded of another aspect of their new lives in Whimsy. An aspect that Dean didn’t quite know what to do about.

At the counter directly across from the pass-through window sat Dean’s ‘fave’ customers, as Bela liked to teasingly call Manuel and Ramon Cruz. Two brothers who’d somehow gotten it into their heads that Dean, being pregnant and good looking, needed a man in his life - the both of them vying to be that man, despite Dean’s repeated rebuffs and declarations that he already had a man.

Bela had a bevy of admirers as well, but none proposing marriage as of yet, so she acted like it was her duty to consistently rib Dean about his unwanted suitors.

Like Sam and Dean, Manny and Ramon were four years apart in age but with the two handsome latino men, the older one was much taller, although still not as big as Sam.

Manny was about Dean’s height at 6’1”. Ramon was only about two inches taller than them, but also smaller than Sam in bulk, both brothers being of a lean, wiry build. They both had thickly lashed, sloe brown eyes, full sensuous lips, and thick black hair, but Manny had a lighter mocha skin while Ramon’s was an even burnt umber.

He’d run into the brothers while shopping at the local grocery store after receiving his first paycheck from Gwen. Actually, the two had run into Dean, smashing their cart into his as they were distracted by their debate over whether to get _Captain Crunch_ cereal with or without berries.

They had stopped arguing and stared in awe at Dean. The moment they realized who Dean was, was almost comical with how their faces melted into shock and awe as they stared at his belly. Dean had no doubt they knew he was pregnant. He was well aware of how gossip could fly in small towns and if a pregnant man wasn’t gossip material, Dean didn’t know what was.

When the two brothers had continued to stare for an additional three minutes, Dean began to get annoyed. They snapped out of it when he threatened to smash their faces in with a can of corn and instantly turned into smooth talking, flirty Casanovas. Each making fools of themselves as they begged and pleaded to help Dean with his shopping; refusing to let him lift anything heavier than a box of the much debated _Captain Crunch_.

Dean hadn’t known what to make of them and had tried to ignore them as he finished off his shopping. When they helped him load his purchases into the 4-door compact car Gwen had loaned him, Dean couldn’t help but laugh when the two realized they’d gone through the entire store without getting a single thing they’d gone there to get and had to go back in to do their own shopping.

That night, The Cruz brothers showed up for dinner at the diner and hadn’t missed a day since. Gwen praised Dean for bringing in good business as soon as it was discovered that both men had huge appetites.

Both men smiled when they saw Dean looking, Manny even giving a little wave. “Hi Dean!” he called out.

Ramon leaned forward and fixed Dean with his sexiest smile. “Hey Dean.” he said, in his sultry, deep voice.

Dean fought to keep his face straight and hold in the laugh he could feel bubbling at the back of his throat.

Even if Dean could still get his head turned by a pretty woman and he could admit to himself when a man was handsome or even gorgeous like the Cruz brothers, Dean no longer felt any attraction to anyone who wasn’t Sam.

He’d even told Sam once that he’d not only ‘gone gay’ for his brother, but that Sam had also ruined him for anyone else; male or female. Sam had just smiled smugly and said ‘good’. Dean had never had an issue with Sam’s possessiveness, because he knew that he was just as bad if not worse when it came to Sam.

In fact, if Sam were here right now, he’d probably be glowering and huffing at the way the Cruz brothers were trying to woo Dean.

At the thought of his brother, an all too familiar pang of sorrow killed Dean’s good mood. His heart ached inside of him and a sheen of tears came to his clear, moss green eyes. Blinking furiously, Dean returned his attention back to his task, then turned his back on the window as he made his way over to the grill.

 

It was a little after 1AM when Dean finally opened the door to the apartment he shared with Bela, located above Gwen’s. 

Bela was following right behind him, ushering him before her as she ordered him to get straight in the shower and to change into his pajamas while she warmed up their late night dinner-slash-breakfast that Gwen had made for them.

“Stop bossing me around, woman. I’m not a child.”

“No, but you’re carrying a child and I know for a fact you didn’t use your time-out corner as much as you should have so I’d bet you a fifty that your ankles are probably the size of melons by now.”

Dean glared mulishly back at her, crossing his arms across his chest for good measure. “It’s a lounge area, not a damn time-out corner!”

She stomped her sneakered foot on the floor and pointed imperiously toward the hall where the bedrooms and bathroom were. Rolling his eyes, Dean finally moved to do as she said. He’d learned early on that the Englishwoman was as stubborn as a mule and that it was easier to just go along with her.

“As you command, Your Highness.” Dean couldn’t help but snark back at her as he headed for his bedroom.

He didn’t know quite how it happened, but somewhere along the way Bela had changed - mellowed out, some would say. She went from hating her job at the diner to seeming to love it. Her sarcasm and biting wit had slowly diminished so that it only showed when anyone or anything irritated or angered her.

When he returned to the main room after his shower, it was to find Bela setting a plated bacon-cheeseburger with extra-onions next to a bowl of corn chowder and another plate with big slice of pecan pie resting on it.

“Oh hell yeah. Woman, if I didn’t have Sam…”

“Yeah, yeah… promises promises, Winchester. If I’d actually cooked this food then I’d be flattered, but since I didn’t…” Bela smirked at him. She then watched with a look of morbid fascination as Dean sat at the table then almost immediately fell on the food like he’d been starved for weeks.

“You are so lucky we’re here and not out in the real world.” she said with amusement as she shook her head slightly then turned to walk into the adjoining living room to sit on the couch. “Eating the way you do, I’m sure you’d be the size of a house by now.”

“Hey, I’m eating for two!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, fatty.” she laughed, as she toed her sneakers and socks off, then pulled a pair of strappy sandals out from under the couch and began putting them on.

“You going out?” Dean mumbled, through a mouthful of burger and pecan pie.

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Bela winked at Dean. “Yep, got a hot date. I’ll eat my food tomorrow. Or later today, actually.”

“Be careful.”

“Please. This is Whimsy, remember? It’s the safest place in the world. Sort of.”

Dean waved his fork at her distractedly before digging it back into the pie, just as Bela snatched up her purse then made her way out the door with a carefree ‘later!’ called back to Dean.

Later, after Dean had cleaned up the kitchen and was preparing to get into bed the phone next to his bed rang. Nearly falling in his haste to answer it, Dean grabbed up the receiver and practically mashed it to his ear, desperately hoping it’s his brother again. It’s another voicemail recording from Sam.

Ten minutes later, Dean is shouting in rage and the phone’s receiver is shattered against a nearby wall.

Dean stares down at the pieces of the busted phone and realizes he may never get another message from Sam again. 

Dean began to cry, and he wiped at the tears hastily, mortified at the show of weakness despite there being no one there to witness it.

“I’m so sorry, Tamara.” he said, softly.

Cradling his stomach with both hands, Dean crawled into his big, soft bed then curled up on his side with one hand idly rubbing at his belly as if seeking to comfort the child inside.

“It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s not mad at you. I lost a friend today and Daddy’s just really scared for Papa right now.” Dean huffed sadly at this habit he’d picked up of talking to his baby bump. He only did it when he was alone, but it made him feel better, and it somehow made him feel closer to Sam. 

Looking down at the mound of his belly, Dean smiled through the soft tears trickling down his cheeks as he saw his belly give a slight ripple then a tiny bulge. “Already so strong, kiddo. Your Papa’s strong too. I taught him everything he knows about hunting. He’ll come for us, I know he will. And if he can’t come to us we’ll go to him. I promise..”  



	8. Chapter 8

  


 

Dean was _not_ a happy camper.

He’s got six weeks to his due date and everyone around him was treating him like he was made of glass.

Sure, at first he’d liked being catered to; being treated like royalty almost. All strenuous work, including cooking, since Gwen had hired a housewife who’d grown tired of staying home to take over the kitchen, was taken over so that he wouldn’t strain himself. 

The Cruz brothers, despite Dean’s repeated refusals of their courtship, had become good friends and without even having to ask, people were constantly checking to see if he was hungry, thirsty, cold, hot and so on. 

But after a week it had started grating on his nerves, and Dean was finding it harder and harder to be gracious about all the attention he was getting.

Today, Dean had convinced Bela and Gwen to let him hang out with them down in the diner. Sure, he’d had to promise not to lift a finger and, unless it was to go to the restroom, not to get up from the corner booth they’d set up for him; complete with large pillows, a quilt, magazines to read, and the footstool from the kitchen to put his feet up on.

Consequently, others had ‘set up camp’ in the tables and booths adjacent to Dean’s and were either reading, doing crossword puzzles, or playing with the ‘new fangled’ handheld games and cellphones that were now available to all. The doctors, Mr. and Mrs. Hammond, had even set up a chess board on a nearby table and had been playing each other for the past hour or so.

Bela walked up to Dean to refresh his mug of hot tea (coffee being off-limits) and frowned down at his disgruntled expression.

“What’s got your double-extra-large maternity panties in a wad? You look like you’re about to strangle someone.”

“I don’t wear maternity panties!” Dean groused back at her.

“Well, something’s got you looking constipated. Is it the baby?”

“The baby’s fine and I’m not constipated!” he hissed back at her. “At least, not this week.”

Bela smirked and chuckled as she dropped sugar packets in the empty receptacle on the table.

Dean immediately grabbed three packets, ripped them open and poured it into his cup; eliciting a shudder of disgust from Bela before she returned her attention to clearing the empty plates from his table.

“Then, what’s wrong, Dean? Did you get another message from Sam? Did he lose another ally?”

“No, no messages. Nothing at all!”

“And that’s what’s worrying you.” she said, her words a statement, not a question.

“No, I’m not worried. I _know_ my Sam. He’s strong. He’s fine. I just…” Dean ran a hand through his now long-ish hair. “I just wish everyone here would leave me alone! Everyone keeps watching me like I’m going to explode or something. I feel like the town freak!”

“You’re not a freak, you’re family!” said a soft, sweet voice from behind Bela. When the Englishwoman turned, it was to see Lori looking sad, yet earnest. Her bright blue eyes wide, pink-glossed lips pressed tightly together.

“I don’t think you fully understand what Whimsy is, son.” added Dr. Kenneth Hammond. “This is a town made up of people who were running for their lives, people who were persecuted, people who had nowhere else to go, and people whose loved ones were better off if they left and never returned.”

Dr. Dana Hammond then took over, reaching across the chess set to take one of her husband’s hands into hers. “Unlike you and Bela or me and my husband, most of the people here came here alone. No friends no family. For them, this town and the people in it became their family. Most of us have been here so long we have no family left out in the real world, so this is all we have.”

Gwen, stepping around Lori, walked up to Dean and encouraged him to scoot further along the booth’s bench seat so that she could sit next to him. Taking one of his hands into hers, she smiled warmly at Dean, then Bela, before looking back at Dean.

“We’re sorry if we’ve made you feel like a freak, but you should know that even if you were a woman we’d probably still be acting the same way. You being a man who is pregnant has nothing to do with why we feel so protective of you, honey.” she said.

“But many of us haven’t seen a child in decades. We DO get them, but very rarely. We don’t think you’re a freak, at all. You and Bela are one of us and you’re bringing another family member into our world real soon. We can’t help but feel blessed and grateful to be able to be here for that.”

Dean stared at Gwen, then swept his gaze around at all the people surrounding him, their open, honest faces smiling warmly at him.

Dean burst into tears and buried his face against Gwen’s shoulder. Manny and Ramon looked alarmed, but Gwen hugged Dean to her and smoothed one hand through his long-ish locks even as she smiled reassuringly at the others.

“It’s just the hormones. I remember I was always crying back when I had my children, too. He’s okay.”

“Sam would laugh his ass off at me right now, getting all emo over the dumbest stuff. Yesterday I was bawling while reading ‘Marley & Me’ for chrissake! I miss Sam, I want him here. He should be here!” Dean whimpered.

Gwen wrapped an arm around Dean’s back, then pulled him in so that he could rest his head on her shoulder. She patted his back with one hand and rubbed soothing circles into his arm with the other. “Shush, sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong with getting a little emotional when you’re nearly nine months pregnant. It’s perfectly normal. Right, docs?”

Sniffling, Dean made to pull away from Gwen so he could wipe his face and regain his composure. He couldn’t help a wince as the ache in his lower back flared, causing him to groan softly.

Gwen frowned. “You okay, hon?” she asked, worriedly.

“Yeah, just my back again.”

Dr. Dana turned in her seat and frowned as she finally noticed his unusual pallor. “Is it hurting more than usual?”

“A little bit, yeah, but nothing I can’t handle. I’m a hunter - hunters know pain.”

“When did it start?” asked Dr. Ken, his face also showing concern.

“Um, this morning?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dr. Dana muttered as she rose from her seat and urged Gwen out of the booth so she could examine Dean.

“Don’t make a fuss. I said it’s not that bad.”

“Just a quick exam right here.”

“A what?!” Dean exclaimed. “I’m not putting my legs up and spreading for you, _here_!”

Dr. Dana laughed. “One, Gwen would probably shoot you and me if you did that in her nice, new establishment, and two, I just meant let me feel your back and stomach, and let me take some vitals.”

“Oh… ok, fine. That’s fine.”

Gwen, who had moved to go to a nearby table, paused to lightly slap Dana’s arm. “I wouldn’t shoot anyone, Dana. I wouldn’t even know _how_ to use a gun. But knives? Knives I’m very good with.”

Dean and Dana grinned at Gwen.

Just then, a low whine came from behind the booth Dean was sitting in and rising slightly off his seat, Dean twisted carefully to look over the high back of the booth and smiled down at Styx; the hybrid hellhound-dog curled up in the large dog bed Manny had found for her.

When Dean had started working in the kitchen months ago, Styx would get agitated when she lost sight of Dean, so Gwen had allowed the dog to lay in the short hall where the bathroom, the opening to the kitchen, a door to a storeroom, another door for the stairs that led up to Dean and Bela’s apartment and the back service door. From her position lying quietly at the back door, she’d been able to keep an eye on Dean as he worked.

Moving her to the corner behind Dean’s booth earlier had kept her out of sight, but patrons who did spot her hadn’t complained about a dog being in an eating establishment. Everyone in town liked Styx and was already used to always seeing her somewhere near Dean.

Behind the booth, Styx had then pushed up into a sitting position, her large head popping up above the back of the booth and was looking at Dean with a worried expression.

“I’m fine, Styx. It’s okay, girl. Go ahead and lie back down.”

The huge dog merely grumbled and rose to all fours, her ears stiffening until their pointed ends were pointing straight up. Her dark eyes beginning to glow a dark red as she rose to all fours and began sniffing the air.

“Styx?” Dean asked, now staring up at the dog. 

Suddenly, the lights in the diner began to flicker, making Dean’s breath catch at the back of his throat. A rumbling noise rose up around them just as the entire building began to shake.

“Earthquake!” Dean nearly shouted, struggling to get to his feet without jamming his protruding belly into the tabletop.

The doctors both rushed to him holding out their hands in a ‘calm-down’ fashion. “No, no, Dean.” said Dr. Ken. “That’s not an earthquake. That means an Echo Jar has been used and a new resident or residents are coming through. This is how we know when we’re getting new people, it’s what happened when you, Bela, and Styx came to us.”

“Never seen the lights flickering like that though.” Ramon murmured, as he and Manny began collecting their jackets and slipping them on.

“Wait, where are you guys going?” Dean sked.

Manny answered. “We’re part of the ‘welcoming committee’. Whenever we get a quake, a group of us head out to the same spot you came through and we escort the newbies into town. We were already halfway there when Styx found us and nearly scared the shit outta us. She led us back to you and Bela and we carried you back to town.”

“Where’s Prissy?” asked Ramon, looking at Gwen.

“I don’t know. She said she had some things to do today but said she’d be back by dinner time.”

“Prissy leads the welcoming committee. She was there to greet all of us in this room right now.”

“That’s why she’s mayor?”

“Yep!” she replied with an overly bright smile. “Everybody likes and trusts her. She works hard for us.”

Dean’s brow creased, something niggling at the back of his mind. But when Gwen continued to just smile warmly at him, he let it go.

Just then, two men Dean had never met before pulled up to the doors of the diner in a white SUV and honked the horn. One was an older, grayed and grizzled farmer-looking type, the other a young, fresh-faced redhead with bright blue eyes and an infectious smile.

“That’s Hal and Gavin. Other than Prissy, they make up the rest of the committee. We’ve gotta go. See y’all later.”

With that, both brothers hurried out of the diner and rushed to climb into the back seat of the SUV. The driver then made a large U-turn and sped off west down Main Street. Manny stuck his head out of his window and waved at Dean.

The doctors then encouraged Dean to go across the street to let them properly check him over - ‘Just to be on the safe side.’ - they said. Conceding as graciously as he could, Dean used Styx to brace himself as he walked, no waddled, across the street to the clinic while Lori and Gwen just called out a goodbye and went back into the diner.

 

The motel parking lot was dark and dingy without a single person in sight. Wasn’t surprising for 3AM on a Tuesday night in a small town somewhere in Virginia.

The tall beautiful woman, dressed in a spotless white pantsuit, walked confidently along the walkway, making her way to the last room at the end of the the building. Right in front of the door was parked a vintage black ‘67 Impala, further confirming that the woman had the right place.

Stopping in front of room seven, the woman raised one perfectly manicured hand and knocked firmly on the door.

She could hear muffled voices coming from the other side of the door, the tenants in the room clearly agitated.

“Hellooo in there. I come in peace. I need to speak to Sam Winchester. I have news about Dean.”

The voices rose to shouting level but chopped off when the door was suddenly yanked open and Prissy Archer found herself staring down the barrels of no less than two handguns and one shotgun.

Smiling amusedly at the weapons, Prissy lifted her gaze to take in the people watching her warily. Her bright blue eyes instantly latching onto the largest of the group.

“You must be Sam.” she cooed. “I see Dean wasn’t exaggerating when he described you to us.”

“You’ve spoken to Dean? Recently?”

“A-huh, yep. I sure did.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Bullshit. There’s no way you could’ve spoken to Dean yesterday. Who the hell are you, lady?” growled the older gentleman wearing plaid and a baseball cap.

“I go by the name Prissy Archer these days, but you fine-looking bunch of Hunters might know me better as Psyche.”

“Psyche? The _Goddess_ Psyche?”

“The one and only!” Prissy chirped brightly, smiling charmingly at the four hunters.

In the next instant Prissy cocked her head in confusion then gasped in shock when Sam reached over to a nearby table, grabbed up a silver flask and splashed the contents of it in her face.  



	9. Chapter 9

__  


Dean was burning up. He felt as if his entire body was seconds away from bursting into flames. The part of his brain that could still think was actually surprised that the air itself hadn’t caught fire.

He groaned loudly as Sam’s lips trailed wet kisses up the side of his throat, then nearly choked on an indrawn gasp when Sam sucked then bit down on the lobe of his ear.

“Oh God, Sammy!” he moaned, voice cracking with pent up desire.

“Dean, Dean, Dean…” Sam is moaning into his ear even as his large, calloused palms are running over every inch of Dean that they could reach.

Dean wanted to feel Sam. All of him. He wanted his bigger, younger brother to press him down into the mattress; to push his way greedily between Dean’s legs, claiming Dean as his own, just as he’s always done since the day they’d first started this aspect of their relationship.

To the outside world, Sam was serious, methodical, and always thinking things through before he does anything. But in bed, behind closed doors, Sam was greedy, possessive and insatiable. Sometimes, this side of Sam couldn’t wait until they were behind closed doors and Dean couldn’t count the many times Sam had taken him in a dark alley, public restroom or in the back seat of Baby.

Dean always let him have his way. Hell, there were times when he was the impatient one, as well. Dean’s inability to say ‘no’ to Sam, coupled with Dean not caring about what anyone else thought about them had landed them in some embarrassing situations, but it never stopped them from sating their hunger for each other whenever and wherever they could.

And yet, Sam wasn’t pressing down on him. Sam was like a cat in that he was very tactile. He got off on rubbing their bodies together, sometimes going for ten minutes just reveling in how Dean’s body fit to his or how the texture of Dean’s skin varied on different parts of his body. Sam knew every inch of him, but always acted like touching Dean was something new, something to re-commit to memory over and over again.

But Sam was holding back now. Staying propped up on his hands and knees, only allowing their heads and legs to touch.

Dean growled, then nipped at Sam’s bottom lip even as he ran his hands up Sam’s arms so that he could hook them over his little brother’s broad, muscled shoulders. The taut golden skin feeling like Heaven to Dean’s own calloused fingers and palms. He tugged impatiently at Sam. Pulling away from the searing kiss to frown confusedly up at him.

“What’re you doing? C’mere, I wanna feel ya.” Dean asked, with another slight tug at Sam’s shoulders.

“Baby, my baby.” crooned Sam, voice rough and deep with emotion. The sound of it sending ripples of pleasure up and down Dean’s spine.

“Fine, okay! You can call me Baby. Just get down here, already!”

Sam smiled affectionately down at him then shook his head slightly. “No babe… _our_ baby.” he said softly, then reared back to lay his large hands on Dean’s distended belly. “I don’t wanna hurt our baby.”

 

 

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he quickly lifted his head from the pillow to stare bemusedly down at his stomach; his own hands cradling it. His mind flashed with all the recent events that reminded him of where he was and that Sam was not with him.

“Just a dream. I was dreaming.” he said to himself. He thought of dream-Sam’s awed and loving expression and lost it.

He turned on his side, feeling the pressure on his spine easing even as his chest tightened and ached with sorrow and loss.

He heard a gentle knock and then the soft creak of his bedroom door opening, but didn’t bother to turn and check who it was.

“Dean?” he heard Bela call softly.

Even with his back to her and no sound coming from him, Bela could tell that Dean was crying.

She was across the room and climbing onto his bed before she could even stop to think about it. The need to comfort him too strong.

Bela was well aware that if she had come across Dean crying just a little under a year ago, she would’ve found it pathetic and made a sarcastic joke or two about it. She knew she cared about him and the welfare of his baby and she’d stopped fighting it months ago.

Sure, the man could still annoy her like no other - he _was_ still a man and a hunter, after all - but most of the stuff about him she used to find aggravating had grown to endear him to her, instead.

Dean had also seemed to mellow out toward her and they had acknowledged that even if they bickered every now and then, they were, in fact, friends now.

Bela had never had real friends before and she’d come to treasure that friendship and right now, her friend was hurting and she’d do almost anything to stop his pain.

She laid on the bed behind Dean and lined her body up with his so that she could press up against him and wrap her arm around him in a reassuring hug.

“Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

“No. I just had a very vivid dream. About Sam.”

Bela nodded then laid her cheek against his back. “You miss him.” she stated.

“So bad it hurts.” Dean sobbed. “God, when am I gonna stop bawling like a chick?”

Bela chuckled. “Maybe after the little one gets here you’ll go back to the whiny, sarcastic bitch you always were before.”

“Fuck you.” Dean mumbles back.

“Love to, but I’m not your type anymore, remember?”

“You were never my type.”

“Oh please… I was a live female with breasts. I was definitely your type. Which is why, you being with Sam shocked me a bit. Not the brother thing so much as the gay thing. You were always all about the ladies. Should’ve known you were just overcompensating.”

“So you had no problems with incest but homosexuality threw you off? Homophobic, much?”

“I am _not_ a homophobe!” Bela growled, pinching the back of Dean’s arm slightly before flinging her arm back over him. “With all the skirt chasing you were known for, I can guarantee I’m not the only one you surprised. A few hunters even think that Sam turned you gay with some kind of spell, or something.”

Dean bust out laughing. “If they only knew how long I’ve had naughty thoughts about Sam, they’d think I was the one casting spells.”

They had both fallen into a comfortable silence when Dean’s bedside phone (a godawful avocado green rotary model he’d found at the hardware store, to replace the other phone that he’d smashed) began to ring. Dean pushed up to answer it, so fast, he knocked Bela onto her back and he felt his back muscles twinge. Ignoring both the slight pain and Bela’s indignant squawk, Dean snatched up the receiver and nearly boffed himself on the head with it while rushing to put it to his ear.

 

***************************  
*click*

_Dean… Dean! If you _ARE_ somehow getting these messages, something’s happened. Possibly something bad. First, we met someone here named Prissy. She says she’s Psyche… the _Goddess_ Psyche. We’ve also learned that Lilith knows that you used an Echo Jar. Dad’s old friend Daniel Elkins was helping us out for a while a month or so ago so he knows all about our situation. Ash just called today to tell us that Elkins was attacked, tortured and left for dead at his cabin. Ash got there in time to save his life, but Elkins says that he caved and told the demons everything. Prissy is confident that even if Lilith finds a jar of her own that she won’t use it - that Lilith wouldn’t dare trespass on her domain, but she said ‘won’t’ Dean… not ‘can’t’. So please, _please_ be careful. Prissy will bring us to you. Don’t do anything stupid, Dean. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”_

*click*  
*********************************

 

“Dean? What’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet. Was that Sam? Was that another message?”

Before he could answer her they both heard the loud knocking coming from the living room.

“We might have trouble heading our way. Can you get that while I get dressed?”

Bela nodded, scrambled off the bed then rushed to answer the door.

 

When Dean finally came out to the living room, after having brushed his teeth, washed his face and changed into a fresh set of maternity pants and a large blue hoodie; he was shocked to see an obviously worried Gwen pacing the floor near the front door.

“It’s about time.” Bela grumbled. “Gwen here wouldn’t tell me what was wrong until you were here too.”

“Gwen?” Dean asked, worriedly, rushing to the older woman’s side and halting her in her steps. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes… I’m fine. Have you seen Ramon or Manny since last night?”

“After they left with Hal and Gavin? No. Why?”

“Hal and Gavin returned to town with the newcomers but not with Manny and Ramon. Hal said the brothers left them at the town border and said they were going back to their place from there. I didn’t think anything of it, but I got a call from the manager at the mill saying that Manny hadn’t turned up for work this morning, which was surprising since Manny loves working there and has never missed an early shift in the entire time he’s been working there. Two of his co-workers went to their house to check on him and found the back door busted open, blood on the floor, and no sign of either of the brothers. I’ve been calling around since six this morning and no one has seen them at all.”

Dean’s concerned face hardened, lips tightening as a look of determination settled on his features. He turned to grab up his boots on the floor then rushed to sit on the couch. Without having to be asked, Bela was instantly in front of Dean to help him to put on the boots and lace them up.

“You think something attacked them?” she asked, a mirroring grim expression on her own face.

“Something’s definitely up. I just got another message from Sam, too. He says Prissy is with him and bringing him here. But that’s not all. The demons managed to get their hands on a fellow hunter who knew all about our thing with the Echo Jar and he spilled everything about me and the jar.”

“Son of a BITCH!” Bela cursed.

Dean paused to regard her with an amused smile, when she registered his look, the Englishwoman just rolled her eyes and rose to her feet.

“I’ve been hanging around you for too long, Dean. I’m starting to sound like you now!”

“What are you two gonna do? Dean, maybe you should just let Bela handle this and I’m sure Prissy will be back soon.” Gwen asked, watching Dean worriedly as the pregnant man struggled for a second to rise from the couch, only to quickly waddle to a nearby closet as soon as he was on his feet. “I think demons, maybe even Lilith herself, are here. I’m worried about Manny and Ramon. Because 

The older woman gasped when Dean dragged out a black, old fashioned trunk out of the closet.

“That’s Prissy’s weapons locker! How did you get that?!”

“She gave it to us a month after we got here.” Bela answered as she hurried to Dean’s side and began helping him to pull out various guns and knives.

“I wasn’t planning on staying a cook forever, Gwen.” Dean said. “We went to Prissy in our third week here asking her if she had any weapons for sale. Bela’s not a hunter but she’s trained and well-versed in the hunter ways. I am a hunter and I wasn’t comfortable without a weapon, especially knowing there were monsters like that mutant cat we fought when we first got here, out in the woods.”

“So…” Bela took over the explanation. “In our spare time, Prissy has been showing us around town, showed us the hidden shelter under the library, the best defensive points around town and entrusted us with the armory she’d collected from incoming residents who no longer needed their weapons. There’s more up in the attic, but these were the best Dean and I were able to cull out of the whole lot and we’ve been keeping them handy here, just in case.”

“What did you mean you weren’t gonna cook for me forever?” Gwen asked, staring with morbid fascination at the heavily pregnant man who was now getting to his feet with a very large, impressive-looking rifle in his capable looking hands.

“We planned that for after I give birth, and if Sam still hadn’t given me some kind of all-clear, Prissy was going to make me the Sheriff of Whimsy with Bela as my deputy. We didn’t tell anyone ‘cos we weren’t sure if I was even gonna stay, but it looks like the cat’s out of the bag.”

“Do you know where Hal and Gavin are now? They’re the last ones to see the brothers, so we need to question them first.” Bela asked, getting to her feet as well with a smaller, yet deadly looking submachine gun in one hand and a large hunting knife in the other.

She slung the gun over her shoulder by its strap then reached into the trunk to pull out a belt with a holstered handgun, which she immediately began wrapping around her slim waist. She then grabbed up a thigh holster with a knife sheath attached to it and strapped it to her right leg; sliding the wicked blade she was holding into it.

“Yeah, they’re downstairs in the diner with the new arrivals. Do you really think you’ll need all these weapons? We haven’t had any violence around here in ages, aren’t you going a little overboard?” Gwen asked worriedly, still eyeing Dean who had returned the heavy looking rifle to the trunk and was pulling out smaller-sized guns.

Dean huffed in annoyance at the belts he found, judging them to be too small for his girth and instead dumped them back in the box. He then tucked two handguns into the back of his pants, another large, sheathed knife into the side of his right boot and a smaller handgun into the deep front pocket of his hoodie.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry, Gwen. Is there anything else we should know that has gone hinky around here since last night?”

“Yeah… yeah… there is.” Gwen said as she turned to a nearby window and pulled back the curtains. “There’s that.”

From where they were standing, Dean and Bela could clearly see Main street, the buildings across the way and a good expanse of the sky above them. The normally bright and sunny sky was pitch dark with roiling clouds swirling about.

“What the…” Dean murmured as he and Bela walked to the window and stared up at the angry looking sky.

“I’ve never seen a sky like that before in my life.” Gwen said, quietly. “At least, not here in Whimsy.”

“What do you suppose is causing it?” asked Dean.

“Remember when Prissy told you about how Whimsy changes when we get new arrivals? How the town adapts to incorporate aspects of the new tenant and the era they come from?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we just got new tenants and judging from the sky outside, there’s something not quite right about them. I already got calls about other people in town who’ve gone missing.” Gwen sighed then rubbed at her foreheard with one hand.

“Well, she’s on her way, along with my Sam, but we need to find Manny and Ramon now.” Dean muttered. “I’ve got a bad feeling that the demons are already here.”

“Yeah, I’m getting a bad feeling, too. Fine, if we’re gonna do this, I’m gonna need a gun, too.”

Bela held out a small handgun, made for women to easily conceal in their bags.

Gwen eyed the small gun contemptuously then stepped around Bela to reach into the trunk, herself. She quickly pulled out a Mossberg 12 gauge with a 5 shell capacity. Reaching back into the box, she grabbed a box of shells and began loading the gun; looking like she was an expert at it.

“You know how to use that thing?” Dean asked.

Gwen eyed him with a smug smirk on her face. “Honey, I was a widowed farmer’s wife, running my family farm on my own, who eventually remarried a black man back in the 1960s.”

Gwen then finished loading the gun, snapped the barrel back into place with ease, then stashed the rest of the shells in a pocket of the tan jacket she was still wearing.

Bela had by then gone to the door and opened it, hovering in the doorway as she waited for Gwen and Dean.

Just then, screams could be heard rising from the wooden floor beneath their feet and drifting up the stairwell just outside the open door.

Bela’s face paled as she stared wide-eyed at Dean and Gwen. Before either woman could react, Dean was out the door and thundering down the enclosed staircase and pushing through the door at the bottom; Gwen and Bela snapped out of their daze and quickly followed him.

Just as Dean opened the connecting door to the Diner’s back hall, a woman’s imperious voice could be heard. Also, from the back door was a scratching and the sound of whimpering and growls.

“Should I let her in?” Bela whispered, just as Dean remembered letting Styx out before heading to bed earlier that morning.

“No, not until I know what’s going on.”

The strange woman’s voice rose again and Dean could feel both Gwen and Bela tensing with alarm at what they were hearing.

“Tell me where Dean Winchester is, and this woman gets to keep her eyes! I’m losing my patience!” The stranger shouted, just as another woman cried out in pain. The three hiding in the access hall flinched as they all recognized the sound of Dana’s voice, pleading for her life. 

Then her husband’s voice could be heard. “Please! Don’t hurt my wife! We don’t know who you’re talking about! There is no one named Dean Winchester here, please let her go!”

Easing slowly up to the swinging door, Dean carefully looked through the diamond shaped glass insert in the door. From this angle he was able to get a good look at the main section of the diner.

Hal and Gavin were holding Ken Hammond between them while two blonde women flanked his wife, who was sitting, trembling violently in one of the diner’s wooden chairs. There was blood oozing from a cut over one eye and her bottom lip was split and also bleeding. The tearing, sobbing woman obviously having been beaten.

Hal, Gavin and the two women all had black eyes.

Pulling away from the door with a softly hissed curse, Dean turned to Bela with a grim expression. “Demons.” he said.

“Demons!” she hissed back, mouth slackened in shock.

“No, they wouldn’t dare! Demons aren’t allowed in Whimsy!”

Bela and Dean turned to give Gwen a shocked look.

“You know about demons?” Bela asked.

“Of course. I told you. I’ve lived a long time and met many people and creatures.”

“Creatures?!” Dean exclaimed.

“Did you think the Echo Jars were only for humans?”

“Well, yeah!”

“Psyche welcomes all here. Vampires, werewolves, shifters _and_ humans. As long as they don’t cause harm to the other residents, they can stay.”

“What about those that need to feed on humans to survive? Like the vampires and werewolves?”

Gwen rolled her eyes and shot Dean a deprecating smile. “They don’t need human blood and hearts to live here in Whimsy. This is Psyche’s domain. Her power takes away their urges. I mean, have Ramon or Manny given you any cause to worry?”

“Ramon and Manny?!” Dean hissed, eyes wide with shock.

“Yes, they’re werewolves. You two are supposed to be well-versed in the Hunter world and you never caught on to that? How they always seem to be able to find you no matter where you are? How they’re always going on hiking trips during the full moon? Gee, feeling _really_ excited about the future of law enforcement in Whimsy, now.” Gwen mutters, deadpan.

Bela and Dean locked eyes. Embarrassment plain in both of their expressions.

Waving his hands in front of his face as if clearing cobwebs, Dean grumbled. “We’ll talk more about this later, Gwen. Right now, we’ve got demons to deal with.”

Just then, Dana let out another cry of pain.

Bela happened to be staring at Dean’s face right as the sound of the doctor’s screams rose up in pitch and her husband’s frantic shouts reached them.

“Bloody hell.” she muttered as she took in the darkening expression on Dean’s face. “And here we go.”

 

Sam stood in a wide stance, hands held out warily to his sides as he waited for his vision to clear.

“Sam?” He heard Bobby to his right.

“I’m here. Ellen, Jo… is everyone here? You guys okay?”

From differing points around him, Sam heard his friends and fellow hunters calling out to him.

“I have Jo with me. We’re fine.” came Ellen’s voice.

“Except for not being able to see a damned thing, I’m fine, too.” Sam recognized the voice behind him as Pastor Jim’s.

There was the sound of rustling leaves then something hitting the ground, accompanied by grunt of pain and a curse.

“Ash? That you? You okay, man?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just tripped over a branch and fell on my keister.” came the nasally twang of Ash’s voice.

“Why can’t I see anything?” came the gruff baritone of Daniel Elkins directly to Sam’s right.

“Everyone also blind right now?” Sam asked, the others calling out in affirmation.

“Prissy, why can’t we see anything? Prissy?”

Sam’s heart began to beat harder when the woman didn’t answer him.

“Prissy!” Ellen called out, worry plain in her tone. 

Sam began shuffling carefully over the uneven ground toward her, but bumped into someone after only two steps.

Small, yet strong hands gripped his upper arms just as he caught the pleasant, yet soft smell of Prissy’s perfume.

“I’m here.” the demi-Goddess said, sounding distracted. “Your vision will return in a minute or two, don’t worry.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, sensing disquiet in her tone.

“Something feels off.” she said, quietly. “We’re a little ways out on the outskirts of town. All new arrivals through my bottles appear here so as to avoid any inconveniences with people popping in around my town, Whimsy. Normally, we let the newbies get their sight back then let them walk in to acclimate them, in a way, but something isn’t right. I can feel it. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to hurry us along.”

There came the sound of snapping fingers and suddenly, Sam could see again. He wobbled on his feet even as his eyes darted around him, taking in the surrounding woods and the equally shocked people scattered around him and Prissy.

“Woah… headrush!” Ash grunted.

Sam now fixed his gaze on Prissy. The petite woman letting him go to step back, then tilted her head back; nostrils flaring delicately as if she was scenting the air.

“What’s wrong.” he repeated.

“We have to go now.” she said, voice ringing with power, eyes darkening with a building fury. “My town is in danger. Dean is in danger.” she said.


	10. Chapter 10

  
Dean, Gwen, Bela, along with others from the diner, were holed up in Dean and Bela’s apartment above the diner.

To stop Dana’s torturing, Dean had rushed out into the main room of the diner without much of a plan except to kick some ass.

The new busboy and the new cook had been rendered unconscious at the beginning of the fight, and Dean wasn’t at all surprised to see that the other blonde demon was none other than Ruby, herself.

When Dean had revealed his deal to Sam, and they’d said ‘to Hell’ with acceptable societal norms and began their relationship, it hadn’t been hard for Dean to convince Sam to stop talking to and trusting Ruby; Dean insisting that they would find another way that didn’t have either of them working with and depending on the help from a demon.

Dean couldn’t help but notice that the demon was now sporting a badly cut hairstyle and burn scars that ran up the right side of her face. When Dean had faced off against her, he deliberately taunted her about her old suit looking a little worse for wear, and had been rewarded with the demon losing her temper and attacking him physically rather than using her power.

Unknown to almost everyone in town, except for Gwen and Bela, in his second week in Whimsy, Dean had started lacing the diner’s water cistern out back, at least twice a week, with holy water from the Catholic church down the street. Bela had called him silly, but still took over the task from him when he’d gotten too big to climb the ladder bolted to the side of the large cistern.

So, as the fight broke out and the innocent civilians in the diner began to panic, Dean shouted at the top of his lungs for them to throw their complimentary glasses of water at the demons.

He and Bela showing them what to do when they both doused Ruby at the same time, the blonde demon instantly screeching in pain as her skin smoldered and smoked, dropping to the floor of the diner to writhe in agony.

By then, the busboy and cook had regained their senses and joined in with the flinging of water, and so did the Hammonds.

When the other three demons also collapsed under the deluge of holy water thrown at them, Dean yelled again for the civilians to get out and all but two of them complied. The two shouting that they wanted to stay and fight. Dean had never met them and had doubts about how much help they could be but didn’t have the time to argue.

When the two, a man and a woman, fell on the demon closest to them and threw her around with inhuman strength, Gwen informed Dean that the male (Eli) was a vampire, and the woman (Kara) was a succubus.

Dean shook his head wonderingly at Bela, then quickly turned and pounced on Ruby, searching for and finding the demon-killing knife she’d once told Sam about, in the inside pocket of her leather jacket.

“NO!” she’d screeched when he’d pulled it out and slammed it straight into her gut.

Leaning in to stare into her flaring, widened eyes, Dean snarled. “That was for my brother, you deceitful little bitch!”

Bela, Gwen, and the Hammonds kept Gavin cornered by taking turns splashing glasses of holy water on him.

The succubus was plastered to Hal, her tiny body writhing as she held the much bigger body the demon was inhabiting to the floor and sucked black smoke out of the man’s mouth as the cook and busboy stood there with a broom and a mop, staring with open fascination.

The vampire had the other blonde demon in a bear hug and had clamped his long teeth on the demon’s neck. With a mighty yank and twist of his head, the demon giving an unearthly shriek even as blood flew, the vampire pulled the demon’s head clean off and spat disgustedly to clear his mouth of the demon’s black blood. As he did, tar black smoke poured out of the headless body and went sailing into the air.

Dean scrambled clumsily up onto one of the booths, one arm curved under the bulge of his belly, and began shouting the incantation Sam had drilled him on for weeks just over a year ago; now grateful that his husband had been stubborn enough to force Dean to memorize it. He was also shocked, but pleased when Bela joined in.

 

_“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus  
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio…”_

Bela paused in her chanting to call out to the succubus. “Don’t feed on it, Kara! Spit it out so we can send it back to Hell!”

The succubus complied, black smoke pouring from her mouth even as she clambered off of Hal. Dean couldn’t tell if the man was dead or just unconscious.

The demon inside of Gavin poured from the man’s smoldering body and began searching for a way out with the other two smoked out demons in the room.

“Oh no you don’t!” Bela shouted, as she rejoined Dean in reciting the incantation.

 

_...Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine.  
Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!” ___

 

All three demon trails suddenly dove for the floor, smacking against the black and white tiles before pooling, then dissipating until they were gone.

The sound of running feet and a growing murmur of shouts could be heard from outside of the diner.

The occupants inside all looked towards the front of the diner to where people; both men and women were lining up. At the center of them was a stunningly beautiful, tall woman staring in at them with white eyes that had no pupils. The people spread out to either side of her, about twenty or so of them were residents of Whimsy that Dean recognized from seeing around town. All of them bearing the oily black eyes of demons.

“Aw, fuck!” Gwen cursed under her breath. Dean smirking at hearing the normally polite and unflappable older woman uttering a cuss word.

“That’s Lilith.” Bela hissed. “The blonde leading them. I’ve seen her in that vessel before.”

“How the _Hell_ did she get in here?!” Dean cursed.

“Their hosts.” Bela said. “They probably got their hands on other jars and recipes for the potion, then forced their hosts to say the words to get them in.”

“I thought those jars and scrolls were supposed to be rare and hard to get?!” Dean grumbled.

“For humans, maybe.” Bela snapped back. “But these are demons, Dean!”

Dean’s eyes shot back to the blonde woman just as she sneered triumphantly at him. She then gave him a little ‘goodbye’ wave with a fluttering of fingers even as her demons began rushing for the front of the building.

“Out the back and upstairs!” Dean shouted as he rushed to help Bela and Gwen to pick up Gavin, while the vampire and succubus collected Hal, the man now noticeably breathing but still out cold.

Gwen admonished Dean for trying to lift Gavin in his pregnant state even as Bela shouted at Dean to lead the way.

Cursing at his already aching back and ankles, Dean opened the doors for the others and led them into the short service hall just as they heard one of the front windows begin to crack.

Just as they reached the door to the stairwell, the back door of the diner flew in, causing all of them to shout in dismay. Dean reached out to grab the barrel of Gwen’s gun and shouted. “Don’t shoot!” just as Manny and Styx rushed into through the door.

Right away, Styx went straight to Dean and started sniffing him - inspecting him for injuries - the others in the hall moving aside, knowing she’d knock them over to get to Dean, if they didn’t.

“I’m okay, girl. I’m okay.” he said as he smoothed his hand up and down the side of her large neck a few times 

Even with his face transformed with large fangs distorting the lower half, Dean recognized the younger of his two suitors. Standing up and releasing Styx, Dean stepped over to Manny, unconcerned for his wolfed out state.

“Are you okay? We’ve been worried about you and your brother, where’ve you been? Where’s your brother, where’s Ramon?!”

Manny’s vulpine features retreated until Dean could clearly see the lined and weary expression on the younger man’s face. Looking into the man’s dark brown eyes, Dean saw the deep sorrow and aching hollowness and instantly knew.

“He’s dead, my brother is dead.” Manny said, his normally rich voice sounding shaky and weak. “Two blonde women were waiting at the arrival point. The taller one opened a box she was holding in her hands and this black smoke came boiling out of it. I saw some of it going into Hal and Gavin just as more of it tried to get inside of me and Ramon. But when the smoke pulled back and flew up to join the ones flying off towards town, the taller blonde said ‘werewolves’ like it was a disgusting word or something.” Manny paused to drag in some air, sobbed, then continued. “The shorter blonde threw that blade you’re carrying now and got me high on the shoulder, while the other snapped Ramon’s neck with a twist of her fingers! I shifted and the blade fell outta me and I ran. I ran like a scared pup and left my brother behind! Our father was right about me. I’m a weak and useless coward!”

“No!” Dean growled as he reached up to grip the sides of Manny’s head, forcing the werewolf to look him in the eyes - at Dean’s side, Styx growled, as if in agreement. “You would’ve done no one any good if you were dead too! Do you think that’s what Ramon would’ve wanted for you?”

“But I left him! I ran home and was able to slow the bleeding long enough for my healing to take over, then I tried to get to the diner to warn everyone but I passed out behind the drugstore. I only just woke up a few minutes ago and saw the mob in front of the diner, so I ran around to come in the back.”

“That’s good, we need all the fighters we can get. But Manny, dude… don’t beat yourself up about running. You never would’ve been able to take on four demons, including Lilith. She’s the first of all demons, way more powerful than the others.”

“ _El demonio!_?!” Manny exclaimed. “They were demons?!”

“Yes, demons!”

Just then, there was the sound of glass shattering and hitting the floor coming from the front of the diner. Styx whirled and snarled viciously, the hair on her back bristling as she took a step toward the dining area.

“They’re through!” Bela shouted. “We’ve gotta go! Gwen and I can’t hold Gavin much longer either!”

Shifting back into his werewolf form Manny stepped forward and took Gavin’s limp and lanky form from the women then slung him over one broad shoulder as Dean yanked open the door to the stairs.

Just then, loud banging came to the connecting door and the sound of people climbing into the kitchen area through the large pass-through window could be heard. Before he could stop her, Styx slipped past Dean and bounded into the large kitchen. “STYX!” Dean screamed, but turned to look back at the humans and one werewolf waiting for him. 

The sounds of screams, shouts and bloodcurdling snarls could be heard as Styx engaged the demons coming in through the kitchen.

Inhaling sharply, Dean stood where he was, his knife held tightly in one hand, his handgun in the other - looking like he wanted to go after Styx.

“DON’T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, WINCHESTER!” Bela shouted. “You go in there, then we all will and then we all DIE! Styx can take care of herself. Let’s GO!”

Letting out a half-sob of frustration, Dean turned back from the entrance to the kitchen and rushed back to the door to the stairs.

“Get in, go up! We’ll barricade this door when we’re all in, plus the one to the apartment. MOVE!” Dean barked, and everyone rushed to do as he said.

Just then, Styx gave a loud squeal of pain and then the sound of a large body hitting the wall that separated the kitchen from the hall could be heard, and the single framed landscape hanging on that wall fell to the floor with a loud thud and a tinkle of breaking glass. With an anguished expression, Dean yhurried in after the others and closed the door behind him.

Just as Dean slammed and locked the door closed, a frisson of pain rippled across his lower back and shot up his spine. Gasping softly to himself, Dean paused to clutch at his stomach with one hand and felt the huge mound of his belly pulse, then ripple.

“Ungh, ouch.” he muttered to himself, then looked down at his huge belly, caressing it with one hand. “Not now baby. Daddy is busy, please don’t do this now.”

 

 

Prissy, Sam, and the other hunters with them manifested at the head of Main street and stared in shock at the chaos before them.

Humans of all ages, both male and female were running around screaming, being chased by other humans with solid black eyes. Littered sporadically along the street, Sam spotted a few bodies, some obviously dead with horrific wounds and some still intact but unmoving.

“We’re too late! The demons are here!” Sam exclaimed, brandishing his large hunting knife in one hand, and a large revolver Elkins had given him after he’d regained consciousness in the hospital.

Elkins had said the gun was special but didn’t elaborate. Sam hadn’t been sure about taking this ‘special’ gun with him instead of leaving it locked up in a safe at Bobby’s, but he figured a fight with demons, not to mention Lilith herself, was one fight a ‘special’ gun could come in handy, especially since regular guns never seemed to affect demons or certain monster before, but Sam trusted Elkins to know his stuff.

Sam and the other hunters then jerked in surprise when Prissy stepped forward and screamed in rage. Her whole body seeming to shimmer out of focus, then resetting into a solid shape, but looking very, very different.

Before them, now stood a veritable warrior-princess-looking woman, complete with a toga style white dress that fell to her knees, Roman style gold sandals that wound up her legs in a zig-zag fashion coming to a stop right below her knees and hanging from her neck was a delicate gold chain with an arrow amulet resting on her chest. On her head was a wide, gold band with inscriptions on it that Sam couldn’t really get a good look at. 

Prissy had been a tall woman to begin with, but now she looked to have shot up a foot in height and her demure working woman look was completely gone.

Her tightly bound hair now flowed down her back in golden waves, her body showed signs of intense training as she pulled a golden bow and arrow from out of nowhere and the svelte, lean muscles in her arms flexed as she fit arrow to bow and pulled on the string; testing its tension. Then with an almost nonchalant air, Prissy pulled back on the string, and released without seeming to aim.

Down the street, a burly man chasing a screaming woman was struck square in the chest and he collapsed even as black smoke poured out of his mouth with a high-pitched screech of pain. Just as the smoke was about to leave the body, the whole of it jerked to a stop in mid air. It’s tail end was pinned to the body by the arrow and now the smoke was writhing frantically, keening as it struggled to break free.

“Woah, Prissy!” Jo exclaimed, her eyes shining with awe and a bit of hero-worship.

Prissy’s enraged expression had settled into a cold simmer and yet she turned to smile at Jo. “You liked that? Watch this.”

She then continued to pull golden arrows from out of nowhere and shot them up the street, one right after the other, in a blur of graceful, beautiful movements.

In seconds, her arrows seemed to create a golden canopy as they flew up the street, hitting each demon in sight.

A few of the demons tried to release their cohorts by pulling on the arrows that were pinning them down, but no matter how much they pulled and yanked the arrows about, the arrows couldn’t be budged and those who’d stopped to try, got picked off by Prissy pretty quickly.

Sam’s look of wonder melted away as he watched the bodies dropping to the street. Closing his eyes, he turned his face away and tried to block out the sounds of the screeching and wailing demons. He knew that with this many demons there were bound to be a few human casualties, but this was turning into a massacre.

“Geezus! You’re killing them all!” Bobby said, voice rasping with emotion. When Sam turned to look at him, the older man was holding Ellen and Jo in his arms, the two women weeping softly.

Prissy fired off three more arrows then the bow disappeared when she turned to look back at the stricken hunters.

“My husband’s arrows won’t kill the hosts, my dears. The pure magic of love they are made of only evict the demons from the host and then prevent the demons from escaping or going back inside the human.”

“Your husband?” asked Rufus.

“Eros. Her husband is the Greek god, Eros. Also known as Cupid.” Sam answered, while Prissy just smiled and nodded.

“So those people aren’t dead?” asked Jo.

“No, my dear. They are simply sleeping. They will awaken in a little while, but first, I’ll need all your help to dispose of my unwanted visitors.”

Holding up her hands, Prissy manifested a short, golden blade in each hand; the hilts made of some kind of white, smooth wood.

“Stab these into every demon you see, and the arrows will disappear, leaving the human uninjured. If you run across any demons still inside a human, the blades will work on them too, while also not harming the host.

Prissy then handed the blades to Ellen and Jo and manifested more for Sam and the other hunters. The entire group then moved along the street, systematically dispatching the trapped demons.

When they neared the diner, more demons poured out of the main doors, led by a tall, statuesque woman; long, blonde hair in ringlets flaring out behind her. She was dressed in dark wash blue jeans, velvety brown thigh high boots with spiked heels and a slim fitting red leather jacket that was belted at the waist.

She came to a stop just outside of the diner and smirked as she watched Prissy walk up, Sam and Bobby flanking her.

“How DARE you invade my domain, Lilith.” Prissy growled.

“Well, hello to you too, Psyche darlin’! Is that the way you greet an old friend?”

“You are _not_ my friend. Never have been, never will be. You are a boil that needs to be lanced and burned out!”

Lilith’s smile turned into an ugly sneer as her eyes went white. Her hands clenched at her sides as she snarled. “I remember when you were nothing but a puling little mortal flaunting yourself at Eros, licking his boots just to trap him between your thighs.”

“Oh Lilith, still sore because my man didn’t find you appealing when you tried to seduce him?”

“He would’ve been mine if you hadn’t flashed your tits at him, bitch!” Lilith roared.

“He only tolerated you. Found your little crush amusing.” Prissy replied, calmly. “He would never have taken you to his bed.”

Lilith took a couple of steps closer until she was only a foot or two from Prissy. Seething, as her entire body trembled with pent-up rage.

“You stole from me once before, but not again. Dean Winchester is mine!”

“NO HE’S NOT!!” Sam shouted. “He. Is. MINE!”

Lilith’s attention turned to Sam, her lips twisting with derision. “Well, if it isn’t little Sammy Winchester. You’ve been a real pain in my ass these past couple months but the fact of the matter is that your brother made a deal and I’m here to collect on it.”

“You won’t be able to collect anything if you’re dead!” Sam gritted out, bringing up Psyche’s golden blade in front of him even as he cocked Elkins’ Colt in the other.

Lilith’s eyes widened when she saw the gun then threw her head back and laughed.

“Do you honestly think that pigsticker and peashooter can harm me?! C’mon Sam. You’re no match for me. Maybe if Azazel had given you more demon blood, you could’ve given me a run for my money, but nope… you’re still mostly human so you’re powerless.”

“I’m not.” Prissy growled.

“You?!” Lilith laughed again. “You and I won’t be fighting with bows and arrows. Do you think your powers can match mine? Also, if you wanted to go head to head with me, when was the last time you were actually in a battle, Psyche dear? Your husband does all the fighting for you. I have fought and lived through countless battles at Lucifer’s side, and against much stronger foes than you - Psyche, _Goddess of the Soul_. Pathetic!”

Without warning, Lilith took a step closer and slapped Prissy across the face. The hit so hard, the imprint of her hand on Prissy’s pale cheek briefly blossomed white, then quickly changed to a dark red.

Sam spotted movement behind the line of demons, a shocked little gasp escaping him when a large - was that a hellhound? - creature leapt through the broken glass of diner’s large window and dashed through the phalanx of demons to leap and grab a hold of Lilith’s left arm.

The other demons stared in shock, even as Prissy and the hunters cautiously stepped back.

LIlith’s shrieks rose in pitch, when with a violent shake of its entire body, the creature ripped Lilith’s arm clean off. As it dropped the demon’s arm and braced to leap again, it was then Sam notice the creature’s dark red eyes.

_That IS a hellhound!_ Sam thought, surprised.

“How DARE you! You insolent MUTT!” Lilith screamed, then with one hand gesture, Lilith raised a large chunk of concrete that was lying on the road nearby and sent it flying at the hound.

Sam cringed at the sound of the hound’s cry of pain, as the piece of masonry crashed into it and sent it tumbling down the road. Its dark body coming to rest near a broken-down gry truck; unmoving, no sign of life.

“Styx!” Prissy cried out, looking genuinely upset about the hound.

The Goddess then turned her head to look back at Lilith - a cold anger, taking over her expression.

“There is no stay of execution this time, Lilith.” Prissy gritted out. “I would’ve asked for you a quick, merciful death, for old time’s sake, but not anymore. I really liked that hound.”

“She was MY hound. I don’t know how you turned her against me, but she was a traitor and all traitors must die.” Lilith snapped, standing up straight, seeming not to even notice the black blood pouring from where her left arm had been.

“And so, must you.” Prissy murmured.

Lilith sneered at Prissy then jumped as the nine remaining demons at her back exploded into black ash and dust.

There was a bright flash then suddenly a tall, tanned man was walking up to Prissy. He looked to be about an inch or two shorter than Sam, wearing charcoal dress pants, shiny black shoes, soft-looking v-neck cashmere sweater in dark blue that complemented the bright blue of his eyes.

His face was near perfection with dark arching brows, thick black lashes, straight aquiline nose and strong, sensuous lips. Those bright eyes were fixed on Prissy, his voice like smooth brandy when he spoke.

“Psyche sweetheart, I felt your pain. What has happened?” the gorgeous stranger said, cupping the sides of Prissy’s face with both hands the moment he reached her, seeming not to notice all those around them. Sam could only gape, having figured out that this beautiful stranger was none other than Prissy’s husband - The God of Love, Eros.

“Erik, I’m fine, I -...” Prissy was cut off when ‘Erik’ turned her face and spotted the vivid handprint on the delicate alabaster skin of her cheek.

“Someone HIT you! Who the _fuck_ laid a hand on you?!”

Prissy’s eyes shifted to Eros’ left pinning Lilith, who was looking a little green around the gills to Sam, on the spot. Eros turned, his eyes darkening with rage when he spotted Lilith.

“Now, Eros…” Lilith babbled frantically. “It was only a light tap, I didn’t do any permanent damage.”

Sam could see, even at the angle from where he was standing, that Eros’ eyes had turned a molten gold; the entire orbs looking to be solid gold with no pupils. And from those eyes emanated a bright glow.

Right before their eyes, Lilith began to sweat profusely then her hair and the edges of her clothing began to smolder - tendrils of smoke rising from her.

“EROS!” Lilith screeched as she stumbled back a couple of feet. “You can’t… you can’t kill me! The seals! You’ll break the final seal!”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Lilith? I’ve _seen_ the original prophecy in the annals of Heaven - not the watered down version that the humans know of. The prophecy states the Final Seal will be broken if the bitch mother of demons, that’s _you_ , is killed by that from which you’d come. You were once human, so if another human killed you, _that_ would break the seal.”

Sam gasped in shock. Thinking of all the time he’d spent trying to catch and kill Lilith. If he’d succeeded, he would've brought on the end of times; the Apocalypse! His attention was drawn back to Eros and Lilith when the God continued speaking.

“I may have put up with your little games and your crush on me for eons Lilith, but _NO ONE_ hurts my wife and lives! I was never human, so you see… I can dust your ass whenever I want, without any consequences!”

The light from Eros’ eyes suddenly intensified and Lilith threw her head back and screamed, white light pouring from her eyes and mouth, as every window and glass door along Main Street exploded outwards forcing Sam and the other hunters to duck and cover their heads and faces.

When Sam felt it safe enough to rise from his crouch and drop his arms, it was to an almost surreal sight.

Prissy was kicking at the pile of white ashes that had been Lilith while mildly berating her husband.

The tall God was standing with his back to Sam, watching his wife’s antics with his arms folded firmly across his chest.

“I’m not going to apologize, Priss. She _hit_ you!’

“You promised me that Whimsy would be mine and that you wouldn’t interfere!”

“And I haven’t! I didn’t kill her because of the town, I killed her because she hurt you! _You_ will always be my concern and anything that causes you pain is _mine_ to deal with!”

“Ugh! MEN!” Prissy shouted, before turning and stomping her way in through the broken diner door.

Unfolding his arms, Eros threw his hands in the air and turned to Bobby, who was standing and watching (more like gaping like a fish) to his right. “That woman drives me insane!” he shouted.

“Uh… yeah, well. Driving men crazy is kinda their job, son.” Bobby finally managed to get out.

Eros paused for a second or two, then began laughing uproariously. “True! That is _so_ true!”

As the God bent over laughing again, Sam couldn’t help but notice the nicely shaped ass encased in denim being poked out in his direction.

From above them, Dean’s acerbic tone could be made out as he called down from the broken window on the second floor.

“Nice, Sam… I’m up here in pain ‘cos of _your_ baby and you’re down there eyeing another dude’s ass!”

“I wasn’t eyeing his… wait.. my _WHAT_?!”

 

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

The lighting in Gwen’s Tavern gave a dim, golden glow to the once diner-slash-karaoke-slash-nightclub. It had taken Gwen almost five years to settle on what type of establishment she wanted to run and in the end, she’d finally settled on a pub-style bar.

She brewed her own beers, kept a short yet exemplary menu of food that patrons could order to eat in the bar or take to go.

Now, the bar’s tastefully decorated, walnut-paneled rooms were decked from floor to ceiling with balloons, banners and multicolored Christmas lights. Almost everyone in town had joined in to donate food, decorations and manpower to set it all up.

It wasn’t often that one, let alone two of their own would leave Whimsy voluntarily. The town being a near paradise made up of people who cared for each other deeply. The ones that left were usually those who couldn’t or wouldn’t adjust to the tranquility that Whimsy offered to all its residents. But even those types were few and far between.

Gwen usually held a Bon Voyage party of some kind for any leaving Whimsy, but this farewell party was different. The two leaving them today were popular and well-loved by almost all in town.

Gwen stood beside Prissy as they watched Eli and Manny finish hanging the big banner that hung over the bar.

When the two men hopped down together from the bar, Manny lost his balance and stumbled; he would’ve crashed into a nearby table if Eli hadn’t grabbed him. Gwen and Prissy watched with fond smiles as the two took a moment to laugh, then kiss.

Everyone had been surprised when the vampire and the werewolf had hooked up and then started dating steadily. But seeing how Eli brought the sad werewolf out of his decade long depression over losing his brother had warmed many up to the couple.

At the other end of the room, Bobby and Ellen were loudly protesting the antics of Ellen’s daughter Jo, and her boyfriend Gavin. The two were raining leftover confetti on the older pair and dancing around them like children. Gwen couldn’t help but grin at the happy scene.

“I think we’re ready.” murmured Prissy. Her aquamarine eyes shining happily as she took in the entire bar.

“I still can’t believe they’re leaving.” Gwen mumbled, tears coming to her eyes.

“Oh Gwen, darling. They’ll be fine. Eros promised to keep a close eye on them while they’re out there.”

“I know. It’s just, I’m gonna miss those boys. But I understand them wanting to go to college and experience the real world for themselves.”

“How was Dean the last time you saw him?” Prissy asked.

“Oh, you know Dean. He’s as grumpy as ever. He still wants to go with his boys, but Sam talked him out of it. Even with Lilith dead, Dean’s contract is still in effect. Demons won’t dare trying to come in here again to collect him, but out there, he’d be fair game and Sam won’t have it. And then Dean won’t let Sam go ‘cos he won’t take a chance on Sam being killed and taken to Hell ‘cos of Dean reneging on his deal. So, here they stay.”

“So what do you think of my banner?” asked Bela, as she came walking out from the door that led to the service entrance.

“It’s lovely, dear.” Prissy replied with a bright smile for the beautiful Englishwoman. “Tristan and Ross will get a kick out of you using their father’s old plaid shirts to make the letterings.”

“Well, I can’t take all the credit. I designed it, but Lori was the one to put it all together.”

“Tell that wife of yours her sewing skills are as magnificent as ever!” Prissy gushed, smiling at the soft look that came over the Englishwoman when Prissy said the word ‘wife’.

The former waitresses, Bela and Lori, had teamed up to take over the running of the town’s theater when the old proprietor retired and while working together, found a connection, and then fell in love. They’d only been married for a little over a year so it wasn’t surprising that Bela still had stars in her eyes over being married.

Gwen giggled, pulling Prissy out of her thoughts. “I can’t wait ‘til Sam and Dean see what you’ve done. Just the other day, I heard Sam grumbling about not being able to find some of his shirts. This is worse than when you stole a whole pie from him that one time. Dean might not forgive you this time.”

“I swear, those two and their unnatural love for plaid!” Bela exclaimed. “If I could’ve gotten away with it, I’d throw every bloody one of their plaids in the wood chipper and make more confetti for Jo and Gavin to play with.”

“It took Dean six months, after he found out you knew he was having twins and kept it from him, to talk to you again. How long do you think it’ll take him to forgive you for cutting up their plaid?” Prissy asked.

“One, Dean just had to realize that getting the Hammonds to keep the fact that he was having twins a secret was for his own good. The man was already freaked at being pregnant to begin with, can you imagine how much more freaked he’d have been to know he was having twins?! Second, Sam and Dean are two very good looking men and even their own sons think they own way too much plaid! How do you think I got them for the banner in the first place?”

“Speaking of plaid covered hotties… incoming!” Prissy chortled, her gaze locked on the double doors of the bar.

The women all turned to look as Sam and Dean walked in, each wearing jeans and plaid shirts (Sam in red, Dean in green) and carrying large, deep chafing dishes, the lids secured with copious amounts of aluminum foil.

“Barbecued ribs are here!” Sam called out.

A pair of Gwen’s servers rushed over to take the large metal pans from Sam and Dean, then carrying them back to the kitchen where other foods were waiting to be plated and set out on the large buffet table in the other room.

Outside the diner, Prissy could just make out the two large, black hounds settling in to wait for their masters, beside the form of a third.

Six weeks after the battle, a large cave wolf had walked into Sam and Dean’s backyard when Dean was on the back porch with the twins, getting some fresh air.

Dean had Sam’s ‘special’ gun with him, but something had told him the cave wolf meant no harm, so he left the gun in the front pocket of his hoodie even if he did stick his hand in to hold it - just in case.

He’d forgotten about the gun however, when three black hound pups with dark red eyes came tumbling into the yard after the cave wolf. One female, two males and all three of them were the size of full grown pit bulls.

Using her powers to communicate with the wolf, Prissy had found out that the wolf was Styx’s mate, and even if he couldn’t really meet Styx’s level of intelligence, she’d still been able to instruct him to bring their pups to Dean if anything happened to her - and so he had.

Dean had offered Prissy one of the pups and she’d instantly fallen for the smaller male, the runt of the litter, and named him Bo. Eric had been pleased with her choice and came to love the hound as much as she did.

The other male had bonded with Sam while the lone female instantly claimed Dean as hers from day one, even fighting off her brothers from getting near him back in their first days with the Winchesters. Wanting to keep with the Hell-theme he’d started when he named their mother Styx, Dean had chosen to name the female pup, Lethe. Except when Sam told him he was saying the name wrong - ‘loweethee not leeth’ - Dean had gotten irate and said: “I love you Sammy, but back off! She’s _my_ damn dog and I’ll say her name however the hell I want! Besides, you’re not much better with names… who the heck names their hellhound ‘Buddy’?!”

Prissy smiled at the sight of the three large hybrid hounds stretched out on the sidewalk - people walking by, petting or greeting them as they went. Even if all three were now the size of small ponies, everyone in Whimsy liked the three hounds and considered them like part of the family in some cases.

Prissy turned her attention back to the people when Bobby and Ellen rose from their table, leaving Jo and Gavin to clean up the mess they’d made with the confetti, and walked over to join Sam, Dean, Prissy and the others.

Ellen frowned up at Dean, then reached out to cup his face affectionately.

“Ah Dean, have you been crying again, sweetheart? You know those boys will be just fine. You and Sam raised them right. They’re good fighters and both are smart as a whip. Four years will go by fast and they’ll be back home in no time.”

Dean smiled fondly down at the older, attractive woman and grumped good-naturedly. “Wasn’t crying. There was a lot of smoke when I was cooking the ribs.”

The others smiled warmly at the green-eyed man. Each knowing him well enough to know he was lying but no one had the heart to tease him about it. They all knew how close and loving the Winchester family was.

Tristan and Ross didn’t know that their fathers were brothers. Sam and Dean having agreed that it was a fact their boys didn’t need to know.

Tristan had been born first, Dean letting Sam name him to assuage his husband’s dissatisfaction at having missed most of Dean’s pregnancy. But when the Hammonds had finally revealed that Dean’s work wasn’t done because he had another child coming, Dean had been shocked but delighted when Ross arrived a mere eight minutes later, and Dean had been the one to name him.

From an early age, their closeness was apparent, and it was rare to find one twin without the other nearby. Telling them apart had never been a problem since they didn’t look anything alike.

Tristan was taller than Ross and rivaled his Papa’s height by hitting 6’3” by the time the boys were nineteen. His coloring and the freckles he hated were obviously from Dean, but Ross, though shorter than Tristan by two inches, was nearly the spitting image of Sam, complete with the same shaggy hair, mercurial eyes, and deep dimples.

The two were popular with the younger women in Whimsy, but neither boy formed lasting relationships with any of them. So when Tristan declared that he’d like to go to college, Ross had been quick to say he would too and joined in on the campaign to get their fathers’ permission to go.

A year of constant begging and pleading later, together with a promise from Eros to keep an eye on his godsons, and Ash -who’d returned to the real world a week after the battle, claiming that Whimsy was too low-tech for him- setting the brothers up with legitimate identities and getting them into Stanford, their Papa’s old college, and Sam and Dean finally agreed.

Now, it was the night of their sons’ farewell party.

 

Two streets over from Main Street, in the home Prissy gifted the Winchesters one week after the Demon Invasion, Tristan and Ross Winchester were stretched out on Tristan’s large queen-sized bed. Their naked forms entwined as sweat and come dried on their young, fit bodies.

“Tomorrow is the day.” Tristan murmured as he kissed the side of Ross’ head.

“Finally. We’ll be able to be ourselves in a place where no one knows who we are.” Ross replied, before laying a tender kiss to his brother’s broad freckled chest.

“I still think we should’ve told Daddy and Papa about us.”

“Are you _CRAZY_?! They’d lose their frickin’ minds! We’re brothers, man! No way would they be okay with this!”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Here, sit up. I wanna show you something.”

Ross did as asked, allowing his bigger brother to twist and reach for the nightstand next to the bed. When he turned back around, in his hand dangled an amulet on a leather thong.

Tristan held it out to him and Ross examined the amulet. It seemed to be made of copper and brass and featured the head of some kind of creature with short horns on its head. Taking it in hand, as well as the leather thong, Ross smiled softly up at his brother; his first and only love.

“Daddy gave it to me. He said it’s been in the family a long time and that it will protect me. From what, he didn’t say. But I want you to have it.”

“This is really cool, Tris. I love it.” Ross murmured, leaning forward to kiss Tristan before pulling back and sliding the thong over his head; feeling the amulet settle perfectly over his heart. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“So… one last time. Are you _sure_ you don’t wanna tell the ‘rents about us?”

“NO! Hard _no_! Daddy’s the Sheriff and Papa’s the Head Librarian. They’re well-respected, upstanding members of our town, babe. They’re both heroes of the Demon Invasion, for Christ’s sake! Everyone knows their names.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tristan murmured, sadly. “No way would _Sam and Dean Winchester_ understand how two brothers could fall in love with each other.”

**~THE END~**

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this story and the beautiful art Dawn (supernutjapan) provided for it. Once again, please be sure to also give her feedback because she so deserves it for all the hard work and dedication she put in.
> 
> xoxo Take care and cya all again on my next adventure!  
> \--Jessie--


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